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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25698019">The Nature of Daylight</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/TradingJack/pseuds/TradingJack'>TradingJack</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Hospital, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood and Gore, Canon-Typical Violence, Geralt is a dumbass, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Loves Jaskier | Dandelion, I highly suggest playing the game first it's very good, I've written the ending and I think it's happy, Jaskier | Dandelion Has Feelings, Jaskier | Dandelion Loves Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, M/M, MAJOR SPOILERS FOR WITCHER 3: WILD HUNT, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Please be nice to me I haven't written in years, Please take the warnings seriously, Slow Burn, Work In Progress, also not calling out, but if i see the words advanced nurse again i will combust on the spot, consistent update schedule what's that, i don't even know what beta read means, i'll edit and rework it after everything probably i don't wanna put that much effort in rn, jaskier is a dumbass, listen they're soft and i will not be taking questions, pretty long, sort of I guess they have. phones and walmart, tags subject to changing, think I should've added that way earlier lmao, very much so, will add what they are for at the beginning of each chapter</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 08:01:40</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>57,707</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25698019</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/TradingJack/pseuds/TradingJack</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Started writing this while working in the ER dealing with a fucking pandemic. Haven't really written since I graduated high school so.</p><p>Jaskier is an NP working in a local ER in Novigrad when 2 witchers, Geralt and Lambert, are brought in as trauma ones after being caught by EMS post griffin hunt. Later in the year, Geralt and his family suddenly keep popping up in Jaskier's life. Jaskier can't help but wonder if this is the call to adventure he's been longing for his entire life.</p><p>(If yall wanna give feedback itd be greatly appreciated as idk wtf I'm doing at all times aha) (Will try to update at least once a week. No promises though)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>56</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>146</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>heyyy never used notes before, or really AO3 so bear with me. I think these can change before every chapter.</p><p>Anyway, this chapter has some decent gore. Geralt's L hand is just kinda hanging, and probably the worst thing in the chapter. Lambert's mostly ok but he got swiped on the thigh, he's not Jaskier's pt so he doesn't get focused on too much this chapter. Description and imagery is bullshit, I'm not one for super flowery language in that case, so don't worry about copious description, it's mostly medical.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It wasn't the worst start to an overnight Jaskier had ever had.</p><p>He was just walking through the door of the break room when a nurse rushed past and yelled at him, "Monster assault, coming in now!"</p><p>It may have been the most hectic start, however.</p><p>Jaskier immediately shrugged off his white coat and tossed it at who must've been the overnight scribe, a slight boy named Dara, who was unfortunate enough to be coming in behind him. The poor thing looked harried as he caught the coat, a few tongue depressors falling out of one of the many pockets. Jaskier couldn't have cared less about the tongue depressors. His attention was instead focused on Yennefer, who was the overnight doctor, and Fringilla. Both doctors looked tired as they rushed to the trauma bay, Jaskier now hot on their heels.</p><p>"Any report from EMS?" Jaskier asked.</p><p>"Both patients are Witchers," Yen sighed.</p><p>Jaskier's eyes widened as they burst into the trauma bay. Although the doctors must have seen a Witcher before, it had to have been a while. Jaskier couldn't remember seeing a single one in his three years working at the ER.</p><p>"Didn't realize there were any in the area," Jaskier replied.</p><p>"There weren't. There's two of them, they were clearing out griffins, the ones near the interstate?" a nearby nurse informed the providers as she rushed past to a computer, furiously typing in information. "Ambulance decided to come here for serious, actively bleeding lacerations."</p><p>And Jaskier saw him then.</p><p>There were two Witchers, one of whom was awake and very oriented, apparently trying to fight off EMS as he rolled in, secured to his bed. Jaskier scanned the first one in, who had strangely white hair and appeared unconscious, and stared; his left hand was near cleaved off. The second Witcher, who was alert, didn't have as serious an injury; from what Jaskier could see, there was some tear across his right thigh, but nothing too heavy. Both were caked in mud and what appeared to be monster viscera, with an odd feather poking out here and there, and underneath all of the armor, the white haired one's skin was ashen gray.</p><p>"EMS arrived after. According to eyewitness, there was a baby Griffin in the nest that caught the witchers with a claw. Lambert - dark haired witcher - managed to dodge most of the blow--"</p><p>"Jaskier, get your coat off my scribe," Yennefer interrupted. Jaskier turned to see Dara hunched in a corner, attempting to write notes and trying to keep more tongue depressors from falling.</p><p>"Ah, yeah, sure, your highness," Jaskier sighed, taking the coat back. "Will either of you need me?"</p><p>Fringilla shook her head. Yennefer, however, stared at the white haired witcher. "Hurry back. Witchers heal fast, and we need to set that hand quick and see what the hell is going on with it."</p><p>"Sure thing," Jaskier sighed. </p><p>The nurse continued telling the story to Yennefer and Fringilla while he threw his coat in the office area. When Jaskier got back, the Witchers were already situated, with Yennefer hovering over the white-haired one.</p><p>As Jaskier rushed over, hurriedly pulling his mask over his face, Yennefer was rubbing the witcher's sternum. "Geralt? Hey, Geralt!" she shouted, loud enough to hear from the other side of the hospital. The witcher's catlike eyes snapped open, and he immediately tensed.</p><p>Geralt was practically mute compared to the other witcher, who must've been Lambert. Despite the blood loss and pain, Geralt managed to shoot Yen an incredibly cold look.</p><p>"I need something verbal from you," Yen said. A nurse went to put a pulse oximeter on Geralt's right hand, but it suddenly made a fist, snapping the pulse oximeter in half.</p><p>"Hmm," Geralt growled.</p><p>Jaskier gulped. He focused on the dangling hand and moved to replace the nurse's position instead.</p><p>"Hey, honey, my name's Jaskier and I'm a nurse practitioner here. We're going to try and fix your arm, okay?" Jaskier said, watching Yen try to secure Geralt's left arm. Along with 3 other nurses. And, of course, now that Jaskier was up close and touching the Witcher, he noticed how incredibly built the man was.</p><p>Jaskier almost lost his train of thought when Geralt fixed him with that fierce amber glare.</p><p>Almost. It probably didn't help Geralt that he clearly couldn't focus that well right now, and the Witcher turned back to glaring at the ceiling shortly after.</p><p>Jaskier took a shaky breath in and prayed to any god listening that he would not develop a boner. Not now. He took a good, long look at the dangling, bleeding hand, then turned back to the task at hand.</p><p>"Hey, Geralt, right?" Geralt didn't respond. "Can you tell me what happened, Geralt? Anything at all?"</p><p>Geralt turned his head to look down at his left hand. "Griffin," he grunted.</p><p>His voice was so deep Jaskier almost didn't catch what Geralt said; it was more of a rumble.</p><p>Jaskier grinned under the mask. "Ah, okay, a Griffin did that to you, huh? Well, Dr. Vengerburg here'll fix it up for you." Jaskier glanced at Yen, who was still struggling. "Uh. Sir, can you please calm down?"</p><p>"What?" Geralt grumbled.</p><p>"You're, well, tensing up real bad. Can you stop moving that arm so much? And, uh--" Jaskier took the new pulse oximeter a frazzled nurse gave him. "--er, could I put this on you?"</p><p>Geralt just glared at him.</p><p>"Please? The sooner you cooperate, the sooner you're out of here."</p><p>Geralt didn't stop glaring, but the 3 nurses trying to hold his arm down left Yen to it, and Geralt's right hand slowly curled open.</p><p>Jaskier lowered his mask to show Geralt a smile, and told him "thank you!" while placing the pulse oximeter.</p><p>Geralt turned his glare to the ceiling once again. "I don't need it."</p><p>"What do you mean?" Jaskier asked, watching Yen work and the X-ray machine roll in.</p><p>"It'll read a hundred percent. No matter what."</p><p>"Really? That's..." Jaskier trailed off as he read the screen displaying Geralt's vitals. Pulse Oxygen, sure enough, was 100%, though the monitor still started beeping because-- "Your heart rate is incredibly slow."</p><p>"That's how it is, Jaskier, turn the alarm off," Yen instructed. </p><p>Jaskier turned the alarm on the monitor off before turning back to Geralt and continuing to ask questions, which he stoically ignored.</p><p>Thankfully, Geralt held still while the machine found his blood pressure, which was also way below normal, and while the radiologists took their X-Rays of his opened arm. Though subtle, Jaskier watched in awe as the skin and muscle attempted to stitch itself back together right before his eyes. Yen rushed the X-Rays off to be read after reading them herself and reassured Jaskier that Geralt's heart rate was actually high for a Witcher, and the pallor of his skin was normal for him.</p><p>"Hm. You're a pretty special guy, huh, Geralt?" Jaskier commented idly, watching Yen set Geralt's arm. A spurt of blood suddenly shot out and hit Yen's dark gray scrubs, and she sighed. A wave of the hand, and her scrubs were spotless once more.</p><p>Geralt kept glaring at the ceiling.</p><p>"So, the other witcher, his name is Lambert?" Geralt glanced at Jaskier once before turning back to the ceiling. "I'll take that as a yes. I'm guessing he's not blood related, but I don't think you'll need blood anyway, since apparently this color is normal for you and you don't really appear to be losing a whole lot of blood. We'll wait for labs to come back, but again, there doesn't appear to be a whole lot of blood loss, which is good. Can you hear Lambert alright?"</p><p>Geralt violently snorted.</p><p>Jaskier supposed that was fair, as Lambert had been cursing and thrashing about on his bed, and could probably be heard from Cintra. </p><p>Before he could continue, however, Yen stepped up. "Hi, Geralt. Do you remember my name?"</p><p>Geralt, surprisingly, nodded at the ceiling and muttered, "Vengerburg."</p><p>"That's Dr. Vengerburg," she corrected. "Jaskier went over pretty much everything already. Assuming there's no further complications found in the X-Ray and your blood work comes back alright, it'll be splinted and you'll be discharged, and you should follow up with orthopedics. Do you have any questions for me?"</p><p>"Jaskier went over everything very thoroughly," the Witcher mumbled.</p><p>Jaskier opened his mouth, but promptly shut it with an audible click at a glare from both Geralt and Yen.</p><p>"Thanks for your help, Jaskier, you can go," Yen ordered. Jaskier quickly got up and left, his cheeks burning, as Yen continued, "so, I'm assuming you Witchers don't have a primary care..."</p><p>Jaskier groaned as he leaned back in the office chair, refusing to acknowledge the clacking of tongue depressors continuing to fall from his coat.</p><p>"How many tongue depressors do you have in there?" Dara asked, continuing to type away at his station.</p><p>"An infinite amount. I shall never run dry of tongue depressors," Jaskier lamented. "It is a curse as much as a blessing."</p><p>"A'ight," Dara replied, not looking up.</p><p>"Oh, so little sympathy for one as blighted as I am," Jaskier continued. After no response, Jaskier sat up in his chair to the continued clacking of falling tongue depressors. "Sorry for throwing my coat at you."</p><p>"Oh, it's no problem," Dara said.</p><p>Jaskier looked at the board and sighed through his nose. 10 in the waiting room, 4 unassigned, and 3 from the previous shift. It was going to be a long night.</p><p>"Dara, I'll buy you Subway and coffee if you do some charts for me tonight," Jaskier said.</p><p>"Sure thing, boss," Dara said, standing to accompany Jaskier as he picked up four patients at once. He politely didn't mention that Jaskier would've bought Dara food either way.</p><p>It was a bit worrying, Jaskier thought, how truly little he'd known about the Witchers currently in trauma bay. He hadn't even known about how different their vitals would look, which would easily have led to huge problems if Yen hadn't known. There was no standard education for treating Witchers in the medical field. Of course, there were so few Witchers now, with less than 20 known still roaming the continent. And they all seemed to have a tendency to avoid large cities. At least, that's what Jaskier had heard. It was incredibly unlikely Jaskier would ever see a Witcher again; today was just a fluke. He decided not to worry about it.</p><p>As Jaskier sank into his work, the memory of amber eyes and dirty white hair faded from mind.</p><p>Both Witchers stayed to be discharged, and left without complications.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Oh, does this change with every chapter? Huh. Well, I'm sorry to say if you were expecting a lot of steamy romantic shit with Geralt in this story, it's not gonna happen for a while at best. I'm extra sorry if I disappointed you, I really didn't expect this to get nearly as much attention as it did, haha. You can definitely tell which position I work in this chapter too. Slow paced; this chapter is mostly just Ciri and Jaskier interacting!</p><p>Also enjoy the short chapters while they last. I had some fuckin word vomit occur at work the other day, so if you're keeping up with this story prep for that lmao</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>There's not even cursing tmk in this chapter, it's so tame. Mention of blowjobs, I guess, but it's consensual and legal and appropriate.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jaskier wouldn't think about witchers again for a long time. As the school year started up once again, a wave of scribes left, and another wave of scribes came in as new hires, fresh to the various horrors and tedium of working in the emergency department of a hospital. Internally, Jaskier scolded himself. No need to be a downer.</p><p>Especially in front of this apparent new hire, who was anxiously trying to find an office chair to sit in at her mobile scribe station while trying to be subtle about it.</p><p>Jaskier cleared his throat, rolling up with a chair in hand. </p><p>"Why, hello there, I don't think I've seen you around before!" Jaskier said, handing the chair over to the scribe. "It's very nice to meet you!"</p><p>"'S nice to meet you too. Thanks," she said, taking the chair and collapsing in it.</p><p>"Are you my scribe today?" Jaskier asked, taking a seat next to her at his own station. Although it was a little far from the other providers, Jaskier figured that was fine, as one of those providers was Valdo Marx. He was clearly working the early 12 hour shift, and therefore would be even more sour than usual. Jaskier was grateful for the distance.</p><p>The scribe kept him from continuing to glare at the back of Valdo's head by replying, "yeah, I think so. You're the 11, right?"</p><p>"That I am. You can call me Jaskier!"</p><p>"I'm Ciri. Jaskier's a weird name," the scribe Ciri said. And then she immediately, visually cringed in her chair.</p><p>"Yes, well, it's a childhood nickname, and it just stuck, I suppose." Jaskier glanced down at the scribe's badge. "Cirilla isn't a very usual name either."</p><p>"I guess not," Ciri muttered.</p><p>Jaskier grinned. "I'd also suppose all names sound strange at first anyway." Ciri smiled back, relaxing slightly in her chair.</p><p>"Well, it appears as if you've arrived before me. Is it busy today?" Jaskier continued, opening the board.</p><p>"A bit. There's 5 unassigned right now," Ciri replied.</p><p>"Any in rooms?"</p><p>"Two, there's an abdominal pain in room 19 and a psychiatric screening exam in room 3."</p><p>"Cool. You ready to go?"</p><p>"Yeah," Ciri muttered, grabbing a pile of notecards and a pen and standing up. She trailed after Jaskier as he rushed off to see the patients.</p><p>Jaskier was impressed at how well Ciri was doing, considering this was apparently her first day working independently. She needed to work on her dictation, but that was probably Jaskier's fault; he knew he talked too much, way too fast. And had a tendency to go on tangents. While other scribes were used to it, Ciri still needed some practice. Despite this, Ciri was clearly well studied and sharp, and Jaskier envied how energetic she seemed.</p><p>As the day passed, Jaskier slowly went through the plethora of snacks he always brought.</p><p>"Would you like a Coke, Ciri?" Jaskier asked, handing the scribe a can from his mini cooler. </p><p>Ciri took a second, then accepted the can with a muttered "thanks."</p><p>"Tell me, Ciri, you've just started here recently, right?" She nodded, opening her can with a hiss and taking a sip. "Are you studying at the local college this year?"</p><p>"Yeah. My family just moved here, actually, so it was convenient," she replied, setting the can down to reach for a sandwich she'd brought. Jaskier pretended not to notice the roughly written note a parent must have left her, sweet as it was. He'd ask about it later.</p><p>"Oh? What year are you?"</p><p>"Freshman."</p><p>"Wow, a real go-getter, huh. I'm guessing pre-med?"</p><p>"No, I'm, uh, exercise science. For, uh, physical therapy."</p><p>"Physical therapy?" Jaskier felt his eyebrows raise against his will, and forced them back down.</p><p>"Yeah." Ciri didn't elaborate.</p><p>"Well, working in an emergency department is a little more intense and fleeting than physical therapy, I imagine. Why'd you take this job?"</p><p>"Needed a job."</p><p>"Understandable. Do you play a sport, then?"</p><p>"Yeah. I... fence a lot, I guess."</p><p>"Fencing is absolutely a sport, don't let anyone tell you otherwise." Jaskier nodded sagely and grinned as Ciri snorted. </p><p>"Yeah. I got a scholarship for soccer, though."</p><p>"Oh, soccer's a fun one. Are you planning on doing it professionally at all?"</p><p>"Not really." And that was the end of that. Jaskier continued to prattle on about his favorite soccer player, himself, when he was younger and admittedly not that great at it. He refrained from telling Ciri about the scandal that made him have to quit the sport; apparently, recreational soccer was serious enough that "sleeping with" the volunteer referee was a criminal offense. Jaskier hadn't asked the referee to sway the game in his team's favor, his blowjob game was just on point, even that young. He hadn't even known the guy was a referee at the time, they were about the same age.</p><p>It turned out to be a relatively slow day. Jaskier yawned as he scanned a picture of a chest X-Ray on his computer screen. It looked completely normal.</p><p>"We'll wait for the read, then discharge. Diagnosis, uh... Chest pain. Anxiety." There was nothing wrong medically with the patient. He wasn't really having a panic attack, either, the patient just seemed like a really nervous dude.</p><p>Ciri sighed as she finished up the patient's chart. "I wish I had enough money to come to the ER every time I felt anxious."</p><p>Jaskier snorted. "If you ever do get that money, please use it more wisely."</p><p>"You're not my dad."</p><p>"Is that who wrote you that very cute, sweet note I saw on your sandwich?"</p><p>Ciri's face turned bright red. "Oh. Uh, no, that was my uncle."</p><p>"It's very nice of your uncle to do that. If you don't mind me asking, who's your uncle?"</p><p>"Um. He's my Uncle Eskel. He moved here with me."</p><p>"Oh, you live with your uncle?"</p><p>"Yeah."</p><p>"Neat. It's always nice to live with someone who writes you nice notes with your lunch," Jaskier continued, leaning back in his chair and grinning. Ciri's blush spread down to her neck and she smiled.</p><p>"I guess so," she muttered.</p><p>"Ah, Ciri, you should treasure it while you have it! I never get nice notes in my lunch anymore!"</p><p>Keira, a PA, walked by and slapped Jaskier on the back of the head. "Hey! Excuse me, germs!" he yelled, sitting up in his chair again.</p><p>"You're 27 years old, Jask, not 12," she snorted, continuing past Jaskier to sit across from him at her own computer.</p><p>"Emphasis on old, I'm afraid, I've completely lost track of the time until just now. Ciri, you can refresh whatever notes I have and then go." He paused, watching Ciri work for a little. "Thank you very much for your help today, dear. My charts are damn near immaculate."</p><p>Ciri smiled a little, clearly proud of herself, the blush starting to fade. "Thank you, Jaskier."</p><p>"Have a wonderful rest of your day, Ciri!" Jaskier called after her as she picked up her stuff, logged out of her station, and started to walk out. A small, satisfied smile spread across her face as she walked out of the office.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Playing fast and loose with cannon baby. I'm freely mixing stuff from the Witcher 3 game and the netflix show. No I have not played the first 2 games, and I can't read books anymore so I haven't read the books. Also I've now written. Almost 50 pages. Whoops lol</p><p>Some word vomit in this chapter lmao. Introducing a couple of Jaskier's friends, including a surprise guest! Next chapter we'll have plenty of Geralt and Jaskier interaction. Unedited, so prepare for run on sentences and commas galore baby</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Just some cursing. And some embarrassment, but I can't stand second hand embarrassment so it's not focused on too much.</p><p>Fun fact, while I was playing through the DLC in the game, I could not stop pronouncing Toussaint with, like, a southern accent. Like "Twos-aint." It's more fun. Also fuck the bourgeois</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Despite earning a fair amount as an NP, Jaskier still lived in a somewhat shitty apartment. Well, perhaps that was too harsh; it wasn’t that the walls were crumbling, or the water was terrible, or the heat didn’t work. It just happened to be a smaller, studio apartment that developed an ant problem during the summer no matter what was done to prevent ants.</p><p>Jaskier’s friends often told him he could afford a better apartment. And it was true. Even in the middle of the giant, prosperous city of Novigrad, Jaskier could afford better than the little studio apartment in the middle of the Bits. </p><p>He couldn’t find it in himself to give up the little apartment, though. It was well decorated and had a large walk-in closet, and a decent kitchen, though Jaskier knew very well he could barely cook chicken breasts all the way through. Plus, he’d lose his giant fridge, and likely his favorite feature of the apartment: practically sound-proof walls. His decoration contributed to some of that, with actual acoustic panelling bought on the cheap from the local Wal-Mart 5 minutes away covering his front door, and the somewhat worrying amount of tapestries and paintings he’d accumulated. The actual walls were drywall, and incredibly well insulated, which lent itself well to soundproofing. </p><p>This was his favorite part because Jaskier loved loudly playing his actual, antique lute and accompanying it with loud singing. And sometimes crying, particularly if it was 3 AM. Not having to deal with neighbors was a blessing, especially considering how often Jaskier played and how Jaskier refused to give up playing.</p><p>Which all his friends were still confused about.</p><p>“Ye know yer good at the lute, right, Jaskier?” Zoltan asked. </p><p>“That’s a trick question, isn’t it. Of course, I’m fucking amazing at the lute,” Jaskier replied, rolling his eyes but giving his dwarven friend a grateful smile. “No one else on the continent is nearly as good.” Jaskier and his buddies were at the bar once again, a place called the Golden Sturgeon, because it was the only tavern nearest to the whole group. It was also the cheapest place to buy beer that wasn’t pisspoor, probably due to the fact that it was near the docks and therefore constantly smelled of fish and rot. If you drank enough, it wasn’t a problem.</p><p>“Yeah, Jaskier, don’t you even have a music undergrad for vocal performance and everything?” Jaskier’s other friend, Priscilla, said as she slipped into the opposite booth from him. </p><p>“Ha, ha,” Jaskier mumbled. She’d been his roommate during his time at Oxenfurt, renting an apartment advertised as a double bedroom but was smaller than Jaskier’s current studio. And, as much as Jaskier was loath to admit it, she was just better at singing than he was.</p><p>“I just don’t understand, Dandelion, why you decided to work in a hospital,” she continued, sliding pints of beer across the table. Zoltan caught his and immediately drained half of it.</p><p>Jaskier took a sip and sighed, staring at etched initials in the table. He vaguely wondered if it'd ended up happily. “Oh, don’t start.”</p><p>“It’s a good question, I just really don’t understand. Of all the things, a hospital. It seems like the opposite of where you wanted to be while you were in college--”</p><p>“You know what I like, Priscilla? Living. I really enjoy living, and I really like money.”</p><p>Zoltan snorted. “I seem to remember it was you telling me the other day how much you hate capitalism.”</p><p>“Shut the fuck up,” Jaskier said, rolling his eyes as he glanced at the bar and took a big gulp of his beer. Priscilla and Zoltan were exchanging looks and giggling when Jaskier suddenly inhaled beer and immediately spat all over Priscilla, starting to hack up a lung in the process.</p><p>“Gross! Julian, for the gods' sake, this shirt was one of my favorites!” Priscilla shouted, standing up and yanking napkins out of the napkin dispenser while Zoltan whapped Jaskier on the back a couple of times.</p><p>“It’s-- Regis--” Jaskier managed between coughing fits, which were not alleviated by Zoltan’s heavy whapping.</p><p>“It certainly is. Good to see you’ve kept the same amount of decorum and poise you had whilst in Oxenfurt.” Regis walked up from the bar he'd been at to stand next to Priscilla, his nose turned up and his hair immaculate as ever. He handed her a handkerchief, which she accepted, and proceeded to wipe beer off of her face. “Wipe off as much beer as possible, then you should go home and soak the shirt with first a bit of laundry detergent, then baking soda, if you don’t want stains.”</p><p>“Oh, heck. Fine,” Priscilla pouted. “Dandelion, if I can’t get the stains off this shirt, you’re buying me a new one.”</p><p>“Sure thing, Callonetta,” Jaskier wheezed weakly.</p><p>“I’m serious, this shirt cost me 80 crowns,” Priscilla warned, walking away.</p><p>“What?!” Jaskier croaked. “Why the everloving fuck are you wearing an 80 crown shirt here?” Priscilla didn’t reply, and simply left the bar.</p><p>“Jaskier, if I hadn’t accidentally seen it myself once or twice, I’d hardly believe ye’ve slept with women at all,” Zoltan rumbled, sipping out of Priscilla’s beer. His own sat empty at the other end of the booth.</p><p>“I’ll apologize later," Jaskier choked out.</p><p>“You would do best to buy her a drink the next time you go out with her,” Regis said, primly seating himself at the edge of the booth Priscilla had been in previously.</p><p>“Ach. Ah well. Regis, it’s been too long!” Zoltan roared, tilting his beer and then drinking in a sort of toast. Jaskier winced at the damage done to his right ear, and tried to blink the tears away from his eyes.</p><p>“Likewise, my old friends.”</p><p>“Come to Novigrad fer fun?” Zoltan continued.</p><p>“Unfortunately, no. I figured I’d accompany another friend of mine on business.”</p><p>“From Toussaint?”</p><p>“Correct.”</p><p>“About time ye escaped those snooty bastards. Think they know everything about good alcohol,” Zoltan growled. </p><p>“They do know quite a bit about wine,” Regis said.</p><p>“Perhaps, but here’s the problem, Regis--” Zoltan paused to finish off Priscilla’s beer before continuing, “-- there’s no reason ta know about wine because wine is shit.”</p><p>“That’s not true, and you know it, Zoltan,” Jaskier jumped in, having fully recovered physically from the beer-spitting incident.</p><p>“Alright, I’ll admit Jaskier can choose good wine. And a few bartenders around Novigrad. But that’s it!” Zoltan said, pointing at Regis. “And it’s never wine from Toussaint!”</p><p>Jaskier decided it was not a good time to bring up the fact Zoltan drained a bottle of Toussaint wine 3 days ago at Jaskier’s apartment.</p><p>“I’m unsure why you don’t like Toussaint, but regardless, I figured I would catch up with you all while I was in town. I will probably be here for a while,” Regis admitted. He scratched distractedly at the table a little, a little nervous habit the vampire had that had destroyed the surface of Jaskier’s last dining table.</p><p>“It’s because Toussaint’s full of feckin snobs, is why,” Zoltan grumbled.</p><p>“You’ll be here for a while? What’s happening in Novigrad?” Jaskier asked.</p><p>Regis sighed heavily, and appeared to catch himself scratching up the table. He set his hand to the side, fingernails carefully retracted. “You’re aware of the war to the south.”</p><p>“In Velen, right? Last I heard it was a stalemate, and with winter approaching the north is likely to pull through anyway. Wait, weren’t you in Toussaint anyway?”</p><p>“My friend was helping me with my business in Toussaint, yes. Now I am here, helping him with his.”</p><p>“And what does it have to do with the war?”</p><p>Regis paused. “Unfortunately. . . it’s not my business to tell. Just know that I will likely be in Novigrad for a while.” He stared at Jaskier, pleading with his eyes to let it go.</p><p>Jaskier knew why. He was about to burst with curiosity as to why Regis was here. And he knew the moment he’d try to investigate on his own, Regis might actually gut him. </p><p>“You know I hate that. You’re sure you can’t tell me anything?” Jaskier pressed.</p><p>Regis leaned back in his seat. He accepted a mug of beer from the waitress and handed it over to Zoltan, clearly thinking about what to say. “I suppose. . . I’m helping to harbor a fugitive. And I’d prefer to do all I can to keep their identity a secret, Jaskier.”</p><p>“I can keep secrets!” Jaskier insisted. The moment the word secrets left his mouth, Zoltan snorted violently into the beer he was chugging now. “Oh, please, I can. Yennefer wouldn’t let me work at a hospital otherwise.”</p><p>“I believe that the less people that know, the better,” Regis muttered.</p><p>“Fine. Keep your secrets, old man,” Jaskier relented. “Well. When did you arrive?”</p><p>“A week or so ago.”</p><p>“Oh? Where have you been staying?”</p><p>“A little room in the sewers.”</p><p>Jaskier and Zoltan both stared at Regis. “Are ye. . . Are ye being serious?” Zoltan asked eventually.</p><p>“Yes? If you haven’t noticed, I have been trying to keep a somewhat low profile,” Regis responded. He’d gone back to nervously scratching at the table, this time with the other hand.</p><p>“Regis, the sewer is filled with fucking monsters,” Jaskier said.</p><p>“I am a monster.”</p><p>“No, Regis, you’re a vampire and a good man. I’m talking about fucking drowners and hags and whatever else chooses to live in shit. There’s no way you’re being serious!”</p><p>Regis just sighed through his nose, still distractedly scratching at the table.</p><p>“Listen, Regis. Buddy. Does your friend know where you’re living right now?”</p><p>“No, he does not.”</p><p>“Then he didn’t ask you to live in the sewers, which is good, because I would’ve kicked his ass otherwise.” Regis actually chuckled. “I would’ve!”</p><p>“We could take ‘im,” Zoltan added.</p><p>“I’m certain you could try,” Regis said.</p><p>“Anyways, back on topic,” Jaskier said. “You cannot live in the sewers, Regis. I will attempt to drag you to my tiny little apartment if you try to keep living in the sewers.”</p><p>“As grateful as I am for your offer, I’d prefer not to live in a small, enclosed space with you.”</p><p>“Excuse me, I keep my apartment and myself incredibly clean!”</p><p>“I was referring to your tendency to play your instrument and cry during the early hours of the morning.”</p><p>“I don’t do that!”</p><p>“He still does that,” Zoltan said. “Regis, I know a nice inn nearby my own apartment you can stay at. I’m on friendly terms with the innkeeper. Do us all a favor and stay there instead, huh? None of us will benefit from you smelling like a damn sewer all the time.”</p><p>Regis sighed, and relented. “Alright, fine. Let me grab my things and I can meet you there. Where is it?”</p><p>"The Kingfisher, near Hierarch Square.”</p><p>“Very well. Thank you, both of you. I do appreciate it,” Regis said, standing. “I hope to see the both of you later.”</p><p>“Yeah, get outta here and grab yer shit outta the sewers, you madman,” Zoltan growled, waving away the vampire with a smile and draining any remaining beer on the table, including Jaskier’s.</p><p>Jaskier spluttered a vague protest, but quickly stopped to wave at Regis as he left the bar.</p><p>“Well, Jaskier,” Zoltan started, before stopping with a sigh.</p><p>“What? I didn’t do anything,” Jaskier said defensively. "If anything, you stole my beer."</p><p>“That’s not what I mean,” Zoltan replied. “And I'll fucking pay for it. I just. . . Regis tends to be a harbinger of doom.”</p><p>“Oh, don’t say that, that’s not true.”</p><p>“Every time we see that vampire, horrible shit follows.”</p><p>“Horrible shit happens regardless of what Regis does, Zoltan, it’s not his fault.”</p><p>“I’m not saying it’s his fault shit happens. I’m saying it’ll probably happen, though.”</p><p>“That’s not fair to Regis and you know it.”</p><p>Zoltan just sighed, playing around with an empty mug of beer. “Yer right. I know it’s not. But I also know there’s a war on, and Regis helping to harbor a refugee is not normal, he’s normally neutral as neutral gets. We have no idea who he’s helping, nor why they’re running from the war. This whole situation stinks.”</p><p>Jaskier shrugged, sliding out of the booth to allow Zoltan to stand. “Well, it’s like he said. Not our business.”</p><p>“You, of all people, were the person I was least expecting to say that,” Zoltan replied.</p><p>“I like my insides where they are. I’ve seen enough insides on the outside to know very well that I don’t want my own insides on the outside,” Jaskier argued. “Regis is one of the few people I don’t wanna piss off under any circumstances cause he could crush me, and you, for that matter, like a fucking ant.”</p><p>Zoltan grumbled, muttering shit under his breath, but let it go as he paid the bill. They left the tavern, Zoltan heading to the Kingfisher while Jaskier started heading back home.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>I feel bad for, like, advertising this fic as geralt/jask and then just. not putting much of any interaction in. So here's this chapter where they interact! And then they'll keep interacting for like a solid 3 or so chapters after so I feel ok! Haha</p>
<p>Anyway the only reference I have for how these absolute jokers meet is from the Netflix show. Also took a lot of artistic liberty cause I'm allowed to do that. Had to, especially concerning the sylvan (for those who only watched the netflix show cause I know that's what boosted tf outta this tag, sylvans in the game are way different). Also yes HIPAA and phones exist fuck it</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Some manhandling, and Jaskier unintentionally gets the shit beat out of him just a little. That's it. They talk about murder and blood, but none of it makes an appearance.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    
<p></p><div>
  <p>10:28 PM</p>
</div><p>[Callonetta🦆🎵💛]: <em>You better believe I’m not giving this up lol. Wanna know why? </em></p>
<p>[Jaskier]: <em>pray tell</em></p>
<p>[Callonetta🦆🎵💛]: <em>I saw Valdo Marx performing at the Kingfisher the other day lmao</em></p>
<p>Jaskier did his absolute best to not stop in the middle of the street and chuck his phone at a building.</p>
<p>[Jaskier]: <em>you didnt lead with that??? at the bar?????</em></p>
<p>[Callonetta🦆🎵💛]: <em>You should be driven by more than your desire to constantly one up Valdo lol</em></p>
<p>[Jaskier]: <em>when the hell did he perform????</em></p>
<p>[Jaskier]: <em>if you can call anything he does performing</em> 😂😂😂</p>
<p>[Callonetta🦆🎵💛]: <em>Last week</em></p>
<p>[Callonetta🦆🎵💛]: <em>He was pretty decent lol</em></p>
<p>[Jaskier]: <em>………… we’re no longer friends</em></p>
<p>[Jaskier]: <em>how could you betray me like this</em></p>
<p>[Callonetta🦆🎵💛]: <em>Stop being dramatic lmao</em></p>
<p>[Jaskier]: <em>over fucking valdo of all things</em></p>
<p>[Callonetta🦆🎵💛]: <em>The point is he looked really happy up there on the stage, Dandelion</em></p>
<p>[Jaskier]: <em>im gonna unfriend you on facebook</em></p>
<p>[Jaskier]: <em>throw an eggplant at him next time. it’ll stop him looking happy</em></p>
<p>[Callonetta🦆🎵💛]: <em>I’m being serious rn, Dandy.</em><br/>
</p>
<p>Jaskier put his phone in his pocket, seething quietly to himself. He knew exactly why Priscilla was bringing this up so much, and cursed his past self for complaining about his self-inflicted sleeplessness. Sure, it wasn’t the life he’d dreamed of. It also was definitely not the worst outcome. He could be a dead Viscount, like his parents were now.</p>
<p>And he didn’t hate being an NP. Sometimes, he really liked it. He met a lot of people who liked him decently through working at the hospital, and it definitely kept him occupied. It also more than paid the bills, and for all the small luxuries he kept buying for himself. He was good at it, too.</p>
<p>Being an NP wasn’t his dream, though.</p>
<p>No, he’d always dreamed of adventure. Of collecting actual material for songs, which he longed to perform. Of showing off his lute skills, which he kept telling himself he didn’t learn for no reason, along with all the music theory and history he’d had to learn on top of it. Of truly living his life to the fullest. And this longing had just happened to express itself through playing the lute and crying loudly well past midnight.</p>
<p>He knew he wasn’t really mad at Priscilla. Jaskier was really just frustrated. And now also pissed about Valdo Marx.</p>
<p>Something shrieked not a foot away from Jaskier’s left ear, and he didn’t even get to turn before he was bowled onto the ground and had the breath knocked out of him by something large and furry.</p>
<p>“What--” Jaskier started to wheeze from his spot on the ground, stars clouding his vision. They started to fade only to reappear when he was kicked in the side not a second later, and something heavy fell across his back.</p>
<p>“Ow! Fucking-- get off of me!” Jaskier started screaming and flailing at the thing on top of him, which was not furry, still unable to see.</p>
<p>And then suddenly there was a huge, gloved hand covering his mouth, and he was being pushed against the wall of a nearby building. His head was cushioned by another gloved hand, creaking as the leather stretched. Jaskier screamed and flailed about, blinking rapidly and eyes wide in an attempt to see anything.</p>
<p>“Shush. Please,” a voice, gravelly and unbelievably deep, spoke near Jaskier’s ear. </p>
<p>Jaskier’s vision started to return, two amber eyes locking his own in place. Oh, it was a witcher. Around the eyes, a vaguely familiar, ashen gray face formed, framed by oddly white hair. Oh, it was that witcher.</p>
<p>Automatically, Jaskier tried to look at the witcher’s left hand, which was currently covering his mouth. Though covered with leather and armor, the hand appeared to be totally fine. Jaskier tried to force his hammering heart to calm down, now for another reason besides fear, and stopped screaming. Well, there were worse people to be kidnapped by. At least he was pretty hot.</p>
<p>The witcher released Jaskier with a confused look. “Um. Thanks?” he rumbled.</p>
<p>Jaskier was almost dizzy with how fast his cheeks heated up. “Oh god, did I say that out loud? I didn’t mean it. Please don’t hurt me,” he blurted.</p>
<p>The witcher held his hands up. Damn, what was his name again? It was on the tip of Jaskier’s tongue.</p>
<p>“I’m not gonna hurt you. I was chasing. . . something else,” the witcher said. He'd grown a fair amount of scruff since Jaskier had seen him.</p>
<p>“Oh. Well, that’s good.” It was so close, his name was right there--! “That’s right! Geralt, isn’t it? It’s, uh, nice to actually meet you, you know, with all your limbs attached,” Jaskier said.</p>
<p>Geralt’s eyes narrowed, and Jaskier saw a spark of recognition in his eyes. Jaskier grinned. Technically a violation of HIPAA, but no one else was around so it was probably fine.</p>
<p>“Hmm,” Geralt hummed. </p>
<p>“Well, anyway. What the hell was that thing that ran me over?”</p>
<p>“Sylvan.” Geralt sighed, and looked in the direction this sylvan must’ve gone. “Damnit, it got away.”</p>
<p>“What’s a sylvan?” Jaskier asked.</p>
<p>Geralt just glared, then started walking away. Jaskier thought quickly. This was dangerous; the witcher was armed to the teeth, with two very scary-looking swords peeking out from the top of his back. A witcher’s job was to hunt monsters. And, seeing as there had been no more new witchers for at least a century, this man had been alive for at least a century. He would see more and know more than Jaskier could ever hope to, and could probably crush his skull with one hand before he could think “help.”</p>
<p>On the other hand, Jaskier didn’t really want to go back to his apartment and cry until the wee hours of the morning again. Who knows, this could make good material for a song, people liked hearing about heroics. Plus the witcher, though strange looking, was also strangely pretty hot, with his chiseled jaw and developed musculature. What the hell, heartbreak made for great song material as well. And, hey, the witcher hadn’t killed Jaskier yet.</p>
<p>A second later, Jaskier made up his mind.</p>
<p>“Wait, wait a moment, you, you didn’t answer my question,” Jaskier said, stumbling after the witcher.</p>
<p>Geralt didn’t stop walking, but turned to stare at Jaskier. “I’m doing a job. Do you mind?”</p>
<p>“Yeah, I do. I wanna know,” Jaskier continued, falling into step behind the witcher now. He tried to subtly check out the man’s ass, and probably failed at that. Geralt had really been blessed by all the gods, huh?</p>
<p>Geralt either didn’t notice or didn’t care, rolling his eyes at Jaskier and staring in the direction the sylvan evidently went. “It depends. Sylvans are intelligent, can make their own choices. They’re easy to recognize by the horns and goat legs, much as they sometimes try to hide them. This one chose to be a thief,” Geralt eventually responded.</p>
<p>“Ooh. Are you going to find it? Are you going to kill it? What did it steal?” Jaskier blurted, mind still scrambling.</p>
<p>Geralt just scowled.</p>
<p>“Oh, come on, Geralt. I just want to know. I’m not gonna stop following you til you tell me,” Jaskier continued.</p>
<p>Geralt paused walking, and Jaskier almost ran into him. “What? What is it? Is it here? Can I see? Um, actually, not sure if I wanna see you cutting open some creature. Why are we--” And then Jaskier yelped as Geralt abruptly turned and picked him up by his shirt, lifting the man a solid four inches off of the ground with one hand with apparent ease. Jaskier scrabbled at Geralt’s hand, adrenaline pumping through him once again. He was gonna be exhausted tomorrow, but at least he didn’t have work.</p>
<p>“Listen. Shut the fuck up. This is not a fucking game,” Geralt snarled. Jaskier gulped. “I’m sure you’ve noticed, but just in case it didn’t get through your thick skull, I’m a witcher. You know what witchers do?” Jaskier opened his mouth to respond, but all that came was a strangled shout as Geralt shook him. “I told you to shut the fuck up. Stay shut the fuck up. Got it?” Jaskier nodded violently, and made himself dizzy. He hung on to Geralt’s forearm for dear life.</p>
<p>“Witchers hunt monsters. I’m positive you’ve never seen a real monster in your life, because despite the odds, you’re still alive. And you’d better pray that you never see me or a monster again, because you’ll probably end up dead.” Geralt set Jaskier back on his feet, and let go of his shirt. “Get out of here before you get hurt, or worse.”</p>
<p>Jaskier took a moment to straighten his shirt and collect his thoughts. “Okay, okay, geez,” he muttered. But then he thought back to why he had just ran into the witcher. “Except that sylvan wasn’t fighting you. And it definitely didn’t hurt me, I think it just ran into me.”</p>
<p>Geralt glared at Jaskier.</p>
<p>“Why were you chasing that sylvan, Geralt? It was running from you, right?”</p>
<p>Geralt turned and started walking again. Jaskier, despite the thorough warning he’d been given, decided to shut the rational part of his brain off and keep following Geralt.</p>
<p>“I’m right, aren’t I? What did it steal?”</p>
<p>Geralt gave possibly the most world-weary sigh Jaskier had ever heard, which was impressive considering he worked with Yen and was incredible at annoying the shit out of her. “It stole food.”</p>
<p>Jaskier paused. “That’s all it did? Who’d it steal food from?”</p>
<p>“Warehouse near the docks.”</p>
<p>“And you’re gonna kill it for that?”</p>
<p>Geralt didn’t immediately respond. When Jaskier opened his mouth to continue, Geralt interrupted him. “I don’t know. Would’ve tried talking to see why it was stealing food, but it ran before I could ask.”</p>
<p>Jaskier thought about that for a bit. “I mean. It wasn’t hurting anyone.”</p>
<p>“I think you can imagine the consequences of stealing food, Jaskier.”</p>
<p>“But it was from a warehouse. It’s not like it was taken from a beggar on the street.”</p>
<p>“And what would you have me do? I was hired to do a job and stop whatever was stealing food. One way or another, I plan to do just that, so I don’t end up stealing food,” Geralt snapped.</p>
<p>Jaskier shrugged. “I guess you’re right. But it does give me an idea.” Geralt didn’t answer, so Jaskier just continued talking. “If I tag along with you, maybe it’ll let you talk to it.”</p>
<p>Geralt snorted. “Why would it do that.”</p>
<p>“Because I’m clearly beautiful and nonthreatening,” Jaskier said. “If it sees me with you, maybe it’ll be more willing to talk.” He glanced around at his surroundings. “Oh, huh, we’re outside the city.” He pretended not to notice Geralt rolling his eyes. “The sylvan ran all the way out here? I thought it lived inside the city.”</p>
<p>“Doubt a sylvan could live inside the city without being caught by the guard eventually. Unless it lived in the sewers, but I don’t think a sylvan would live in the sewers,” Geralt grunted. Jaskier thought briefly about Regis living in the sewers before nudging his brain back on topic.</p>
<p>“Ah, what an adventure! I didn’t even realize it’d take me outside of Novigrad.” Jaskier almost felt the lightbulb appear over his head. “Thanks for letting me tag along, Geralt, I think I may have just had the best idea in the world, so long as you let me see this journey through to the end.”</p>
<p>Geralt hummed and frowned. “I’m not letting you tag along.”</p>
<p>“Yes you are. What do you call this, right now?”</p>
<p>“You, forcing your presence where it’s not wanted.”</p>
<p>“Well, I think you should see this as an opportunity, Geralt! Because, if you didn’t know, I excel at singing!”</p>
<p>“How would I have known that,” Geralt said.</p>
<p>Jaskier ignored the witcher and continued, “And I have been longing for song material! While the hospital gives me great stories, it’s not exactly the sort of things I should be singing about. It may surprise you to learn that people generally don’t like hearing about the three consecutive cases of genital herpes I had once in song form.” Jaskier snuck a glance at Geralt to see the tiniest of smiles on the witcher’s face, and the barest hint of crow’s feet form. Filled with pride, as Jaskier got the sense Geralt didn’t smile all that much, he continued, “But you, witcher, you seem like the type of man filled with--”</p>
<p>“I’m not a man.”</p>
<p>Jaskier was temporarily stunned into silence, which he would refuse to admit happened later. “Oh. My apologies. What pronouns do you prefer? I should have asked earlier, I suppose.”</p>
<p>“I-- That’s not what I meant, he and him are fine.” Geralt gave the barest hint of an uncomfortable shrug. “I’m a witcher, not a man.”</p>
<p>Jaskier stared at Geralt, genuinely unsure for a solid ten seconds if the witcher was being serious. When Geralt kept walking, Jaskier realized the witcher was actually being serious and meant what he said.</p>
<p>“Excuse me, Geralt, that is possibly one of the dumbest things I’ve ever heard, and I work in a hospital.”</p>
<p>“You’ve seen it yourself, I’m not human.”</p>
<p>“Oh? Oh, really? I’ve seen it? Where, exactly, Geralt, have I seen you not be human? Cause I’ve been staring at you basically this entire time--” Oops, perhaps a bit too much information, “--and you’ve been acting and looking human the whole damn time.”</p>
<p>Geralt’s brow crinkled in confusion, and Jaskier felt his heart do a loop de loop. Uh oh.</p>
<p>He saw Geralt open his mouth, and would only remember to be disappointed later that he couldn’t argue against whatever bullshit Geralt spouted about how he wasn’t human, because Jaskier abruptly blacked out not a second later.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>So uh holy shit, spoilers kinda for the books and games<br/>I recently found out how the books end and jesus. Fucking yikes lmao welp sticking with the games i suppose. Anyway big lore that I will sort of take into consideration and also just not cause. Obviously a lot of it won’t work fully in this context.<br/>Also time isn’t real and I keep forgetting like. Things don't have to line up exactly I'm doing way too much research for a dumb fic I started at work lol</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The dumbass duo get beat up a bit. Some mention of murder ig. Nothing about Filavandrel is fun</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When Jaskier groggily came to, a headache starting to pound in the back of his head, he yawned and stretched, feeling he was in a sitting position. And then he belatedly realized his arms couldn’t move, and he felt a heavy, warm pressure at his back that shifted on its own. Immediately, Jaskier's eyes snapped open, and he started shifting around in what appeared to be rope bindings; not only were his hands tied behind his back and his feet bound, his body appeared to be tied to something. Wherever he was was dark, though some moonlight seemed to shine through flaps of a tent a fair ways away.</p><p>“Jaskier,” a deep voice growled from behind him.</p><p>“Oh it’s you, Geralt,” Jaskier sighed, relaxing against the broad back of the witcher evidently tied behind him. “I’m saved.”</p><p>“What the fuck are you talking about, Jaskier, we’re both tied up,” Geralt replied.</p><p>“You’re a witcher, aren’t you super strong or something? Get us outta these ropes, and we can start running!”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“What do you mean, no?”</p><p>“I woke a half hour ago. If I could escape, I would have already.”</p><p>“Well, I’m awake now, so maybe we can work together or something. Here, where are your hands? Maybe I can use my fingers to--”</p><p>“No funny business now, boys,” a woman interrupted Jaskier, and he squinted as a light was lit nearby. As Jaskier’s eyes adjusted, he saw an elven lady with warpaint on her face looking down at them with a sneer. Her arm appeared to be in a sling, and she walked with a slight limp. </p><p>“What. . . you’re Scoia’tael?” Jaskier said, staring at the lady.</p><p>“Great observation, human. It’s clear to see the sling didn’t cause eye damage, though it may have caused brain damage,” the elf replied, her lip curling in obvious disgust. She set her lantern on the ground nearby.</p><p>“What’re you doing? I thought the elves near Novigrad were peaceful! Are you fucking stupid?”</p><p>“Watch your words,” she warned.</p><p>“We didn’t do anything to you!”</p><p>“Is that what you think?”</p><p>The limp, nor the sling, didn’t stop her from suddenly reeling back and kicking Jaskier in the gut. For the second time that night, Jaskier had the breath knocked out of him. He lurched forward, trying to shield his now aching stomach, and wheezed.</p><p>“Leave off!” he heard Geralt roar. “He’s just a kid.”</p><p>“I’m 27,” Jaskier managed to choke out.</p><p>The lady left Jaskier heaving in his bonds and walked around to face Geralt. In his periphery, Jaskier saw the lady squat down to look at Geralt.</p><p>And then he heard a wet thump, and felt Geralt jolt, and heard the man cough slightly.</p><p>“Hey! Don’t touch him! He did nothing to you! We were out searching for a damn thief, nothing more! If you touch him again, I’ll fucking kill you, I swear to all the gods! You dare beat a man tied up, at your mercy?!” Jaskier started thrashing in his bonds.</p><p>Strangely enough, Jaskier heard another thump, and then heard the woman exclaim, and a dry scramble like she had fallen backwards and only just caught herself. Jaskier couldn't see what happened, but as the lady came into view and approached Jaskier again she was giving Geralt a wide berth.</p><p>“Wrong on all counts, little man,” the elf said, grabbing Jaskier's jaw in one hand. She was strong; Jaskier couldn’t even try to bite her. He noticed a bruise forming on her forehead, and guessed Geralt managed to headbutt her while she was distracted. Jaskier couldn’t help but feel a bit of pride.</p><p>“It’s honorable for you to defend this vatt’ghern, but both of you will be dead by dawn,” she snarled. And then she let go, and punched him across the face. Jaskier just managed to turn his head, but still caught a lot of the punch, and felt his cheek split against his teeth and on her knuckles. Still nursing his kicked abdomen, Jaskier groaned and spat on the tent floor.</p><p>“Fuck you,” he hoped he said. It probably just sounded like another groan to her. He heard Geralt growl, though, and remembered that his glare could probably kill a weaker man, and was satisfied knowing Geralt made up for Jaskier’s lack of badassery.</p><p>His head was still ringing, so he almost didn’t catch another voice saying, “Toruviel, please. This is not how we treat captives.”</p><p>“They were going to catch Torque--!” Jaskier heard the lady start, but then she stopped. As his vision swam back into view, he saw the elf lady stomp off to a corner of the tent and onto a stool, clearly wishing she could cross her arms. The man who stood before them was another elf, but his face carried no warpaint, and he held himself as regally as Jaskier imagined a king would. He was beautiful in an ethereal way, though it was tempered slightly by how gaunt he looked, and the strange bulge around his stomach that gave away the presence of bandages.</p><p>Jaskier felt like it was important to hold his tongue suddenly.</p><p>Geralt, surprisingly, didn’t have that reservation. “Filavandrel? What are you doing this far west?”</p><p>“You didn’t know, Gwynbleidd? Redania has conquered Aedirn. And I’m sure you’re well aware of King Radovid’s opinion of anyone that isn’t Redanian. In fact,” the elf man, evidently Filavandrel, continued to speak as he approached Geralt. “I’m sure you’re aware of what kind of man Radovid is.”</p><p>“I’ve never met the man,” Geralt replied.</p><p>“No matter. Suffice to say the blue mountains are lost, which should come as no surprise,” Filavandrel spat bitterly.</p><p>The words were out of Jaskier’s mouth before he could stop them. “But I thought you elves lived in a fortress, impenetrable, deep in those mountains. How did you lose?”</p><p>He could feel Geralt tense as Filavandrel’s attention turned to Jaskier. His eyes bore into Jaskier’s back.</p><p>“Where we lived was little more than a field with some nearby caves, and, though neutral in this human spat, you humans felt it necessary to crush us into the ground as best you could on the way. It was no fortress; we defended what was our land with our lives only. But I have learned that you humans are greater than us elves in one respect; you are infinitely greedy.” </p><p>Jaskier sat quietly through Filavandrel’s monologue, and didn’t respond. For once, his tongue failed him, as thoughts raced through his head. Perhaps it was for the best; what could he say? He hadn’t known about the elves’ plight, and couldn’t do jack shit about it now.</p><p>“That doesn’t explain why you’ve captured us,” Geralt pointed out. “We were chasing a Sylvan.”</p><p>Oh, yeah. Jaskier forgot about that.</p><p>“That Sylvan’s name is Torque. He’s weakened, and we offered whatever shelter we could. The Scoia’tael, and even elves who attempt to live among you humans, are unwelcome at every turn. We no longer have any lands to call our own, and have no way to regularly acquire food,” Filavandrel explained.</p><p>Geralt sighed. “So Torque steals food for you?”</p><p>“He helps us steal food. He is the only one able to get inside the large storehouses.”</p><p>“Novigrad won’t help you guys at all?” As soon as the question left Jaskier’s mouth, he knew it was stupid. Filavandrel glanced at him, but turned back to Geralt, not bothering to reply.</p><p>“You can’t keep stealing food,” Geralt said.</p><p>“You don’t have a say in the matter, Gwynbleidd,” Filavandrel snapped. “We cannot starve. My remaining forces are here, attempting to recover in the minimal shelter Novigrad manages to provide for us. To prevent us would be to aid in our genocide. And, unfortunately, I have been careless in my weakened state. I have let you, and this human, know of our plans.”</p><p>“You’ve tried to kill me before, remember what happened?”</p><p>“You were hired to do a job, and vatt’ghern will complete the job unless you are killed. I am no stranger to your kind, much as I wish I was,” Filavandrel interrupted.</p><p>Jaskier decided it was a good time to intervene, as any idiot could see where Filavandrel was heading. “Um, Mr. Filavandrel, or Sir Filavandrel? My name’s Jaskier.”</p><p>“I don’t care, human,” Filavandrel replied, appearing to go and retrieve something.</p><p>“Wait! I’m medical personnel, at Vilmerius, I can help you! I know you’re wounded. Probably a lot of you are wounded. I can help," Jaskier pleaded.</p><p>Filavandrel turned and sneered at Jaskier. He saw the elf was holding a dagger in his hand now, and gulped. “You think you can help?” Filavandrel snarled, though now he wouldn't look Jaskier in the eyes, and some strange emotion flitted across the elf's face for a moment.</p><p>“Yes, Filavandrel, please,” Geralt, to Jaskier’s surprise, butted in. “We can help. I know you hate reaching out for help, but it’s there. You just need to accept it,” Geralt insisted. “Remember? I helped you above my brethren, when you were in trouble, because I knew what they were doing was wrong. And I’d do it again.”</p><p>At Geralt’s words, something in Filavandrel’s eyes changed.</p><p>“I know things are bad,” Jaskier heard Geralt murmur gently, his deep baritone rumbling through the tent. “But you’ve rebuilt before. You can rebuild again, and again. It’s something I’ve admired about you, Filavandrel.”</p><p>Oh, if Jaskier got out of this alive, he was fucked. His personal taste in men was normally different, but gods if this witcher wasn’t gorgeous.</p><p>Filavandrel, meanwhile, gave a deep sigh. Jaskier felt a brief panic as the elf approached with dagger in hand, and then relief as his bonds were cut instead. He rubbed his wrists and stretched, groaning as he heard his joints creak. Jaskier didn’t notice Geralt standing and then picking him up off of the ground onto his feet, and pretended he didn’t yelp in surprise.</p><p>Toruviel, apparently, had had enough. “Filavandrel, what are you doing?! We can’t just--”</p><p>“This is not the way to do things. Killing them will only bring misfortune onto us,” Filavandrel interrupted her, tossing the dagger aside and collapsing in a nearby chair, wincing at the action. Jaskier himself felt depressed at how defeated the elven man looked. “Well, Gwynbleidd, you have a job to do. What is your plan?”</p><p>“You have to promise to stop stealing from Novigrad. I’ll bring you half of the gold I earn for doing this job, and I’ll need something of Torque’s as proof of the job being done,” the witcher started, adjusting some of his armor. Jaskier attempted to sneakily hide behind the witcher’s bulk, mostly to avoid Toruviel’s death glare. “In return, I’ll lead you to land you can claim as your own. There’s a large forest south of here near the sea that’s largely unoccupied. No one would notice if you took residence there, and it’s unlikely to be touched by anyone, in the event the war comes this far north.”</p><p>“What do you expect us to do for food while we transition to this forest?” Filavandrel asked.</p><p>“The halfling settlements outside the city are being hit hard by the same hostility you’re facing. Coordinate with them.”</p><p>“And why is this large forest so untouched? We are near a city, and war efforts require large amounts of fuel and building supplies. Yet you are confident we will be safe in this supply.”</p><p>Geralt sighed and crossed his arms. “It’s why I’ll be leading you there. Many old creatures roam the forest, and dissuade visitors harshly. But I’ve sheltered in it before, I know it well. There’s an area deep inside it that monsters won’t roam, where you’ll be safe. And once we reach it, the path will be clear for you.”</p><p>Filavandrel considered it before nodding. “Very well.” He paused, and his glare turned to Jaskier, who had been hiding behind Geralt the whole time. “And your friend?”</p><p>“He’s not my friend,” Geralt responded immediately. Jaskier scoffed, before stepping forward and confronting the elf. </p><p>“I meant what I said about helping you out medically. I’ll try my best with whatever supplies you have to fix whatever ailments you bring me,” Jaskier promised, staring Filavandrel in the eyes.</p><p>“And you won’t mention what you’ve learned tonight to the guard?”</p><p>“No, of course not.”</p><p>“The human lies,” Toruviel snapped, and Jaskier almost popped a vessel in his head trying not to roll his eyes. “He can’t be trusted. Even the vatt’ghern will not say he is a friend.”</p><p>“I just meant I don’t know the man well,” Geralt grumbled, coming to stand behind Jaskier. “He’s treated me before, and tells the truth. I’ll vouch for him.” Geralt’s hand came to rest on Jaskier’s shoulder, and Jaskier was glad he was facing forward, as he felt heat rising to his cheeks. And then the gloved hand on his shoulder tightened. “If he hurts any of you, I’ll kill him myself.”</p><p>“But that won’t happen,” Jaskier chuckled nervously.</p><p>Filavandrel peered at Jaskier curiously. Then he sat back in his chair and nodded again. “Very well. Gwynbleidd, you will take three of my soldiers with you. How long is the journey?”</p><p>“About four hours.”</p><p>“Then go now. I wish to be settled as soon as possible, so we have some semblance of stability,” Filavandrel ordered. </p><p>“Fine.” Geralt hesitated. “If I come back and Jaskier has been harmed in any way, I will kill all of you.” Jaskier couldn’t help but smugly smile, though he knew Geralt wasn’t saying so necessarily because it was Jaskier.</p><p>“Your. . . companion won’t be hurt in your absence,” Filavandrel promised.</p><p>Geralt squeezed Jaskier’s shoulder, this time in reassurance. Goosebumps raised on Jaskier’s neck as he felt Geralt’s breath next to his ear. “I’ll be back as soon as I can. Try not to get killed.”</p><p>“I always try not to get killed,” Jaskier replied.</p><p>Geralt snorted before leaning away and stepping back, his hand leaving Jaskier’s shoulder. Jaskier tried and failed not to be disappointed by the sudden absence. The witcher, once Toruviel reluctantly informed him of where his swords were, promptly left the tent without another word.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Consistent formatting what's that lmao<br/>anyway I always found it weird that Filavandrel just. Gives Jaskier a magical lute for like, no real reason? Maybe I'm missing something like usual<br/>Regarding the thing Filavandrel calls Dandelion, I looked it up and like, most things in the witcher are just welsh, so. Regarding the placing of things, uhhh I don't know where anything is lmao so I'll at least try to keep it consistent within the story</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Some talk about gross stuff, that's it</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“. . . and that’s mostly it. You can remove the bandages after at least a full day, then rinse it off with clean water twice a day, gently. Your medics should be able to remove the sutures after a week, okay?” Jaskier asked, looking the elf he was currently treating in the eyes to be sure they’d gotten it.</p><p>“So. . . put antibiotic stuff on it?” the elf muttered.</p><p>“No.” Jaskier smiled at the elf, incredibly glad he’d had all the experience from the hospital helping stop him from rolling his eyes. “You can put a dry bandage on it if you want, but you should let it rest. The sutures shouldn’t fall out, but if they do it’s not a big deal. I want you to visit the medics or check in to Vilmerius hospital, near Novigrad’s southern gate, if you start getting fevers or discharge from the wound, or anything else that’s not quite right. Alright?”</p><p>The elf nodded, and Jaskier smiled widely at them. “Alright, awesome. Off you go,” Jaskier said, slapping the elf on the shoulder and leading them to the door, where they exited.</p><p>Jaskier was glad to see there were only five more elves left, and yawned as he waved the next patient into the tent he’d been working in for the past six hours. It wasn’t the longest he’d gone working, but considering the only sleep he’d gotten was the rough hour and a half he’d been knocked out with a slingshot, it was the worst he’d felt while working in a while. While he’d tended to the abrasions on his cheek, his gut and head still ached from the beating they had taken, and the man hadn’t gotten any rest at all.</p><p>Jaskier’s situation was slightly alleviated by the fact that most of the warriors didn’t have anything too serious. The first hour consisted mostly of setting and sliding bones back into place, which was rough, as a lot of them had started healing incorrectly. Deeper lacerations were dealt with next, and had started getting shallower and shallower as Jaskier worked through the early morning. While the work was easy, there had been a lot of it to do. It was also shadowed by the fact that Jaskier was seeing the elves who had gotten off easy, and likely would have lived without medical intervention; those that had escaped and needed it were dead already.</p><p>As Jaskier sent the last patient out of his tent, just a subcutaneous cut on their arm that’d needed a few sutures here and there, Filavandrel entered the tent. He’d already received treatment earlier, the wound on his abdomen having been a stab wound. Jaskier didn’t have access to an x-ray or CT scans, so he just had to hope Filavandrel hadn’t been stabbed in any organs. Considering he was still alive and wasn’t showing any other symptoms, it was unlikely anyway, so Jaskier had just sewed him up and sent the elf king on his way.</p><p>Now, he stood before Jaskier, who vaguely wondered if the man was going to go back on his word and murder Jaskier since his work was done. Geralt was likely deep in the forest, and while the trip may have been only four hours, Jaskier was guessing that was only if you went straight to the area. The witcher had promised to clear a path, which meant fighting all of the monsters in the way. If the monsters were enough that he was confident it would keep Novigrad and Nilfgaard’s gigantic army away, assuming he survived, it would take some time. That, and he wasn’t sure how much weight Geralt’s threat had held. Filavandrel didn’t exactly look like a fighter, but Geralt had said the elf had tried to kill the witcher before. Based on context, it sounded like Filavandrel had almost succeeded.</p><p>Jaskier just kept as quiet as he could and prayed to the gods that Filavandrel’s word meant something.</p><p>“I can hear you thinking, human.”</p><p>“I’ve been told that before, funnily enough,” Jaskier replied, vaguely organizing the limited medical supplies left. In the back of his mind, he wondered if that deal with the halflings would secure the elves more medical supplies as well as food, because they needed more.</p><p>Filavandrel gave a wry smile. “You’re an interesting one. Not many humans I know would help their enemies.”</p><p>“You're not an enemy.”</p><p>“No?”</p><p>“Of course not. I’ve got no problem with you, unless you’re about to stab me in the back. Or the front. Actually if you stab me in general, I’ll be pretty pissed about it.”</p><p>“The problem most of your kind have is that we are elves.”</p><p>“You’re people, just like the rest of us.” Jaskier sighed. “If I hear a spiel like the one Geralt was about to give me about how you’re not, I may actually lose it.”</p><p>At the mention of Geralt, Filavandrel’s eyes softened as he stared at Jaskier. “If you don’t believe it, I won’t assure you of it,” he muttered. And then he continued, “How long have you known him? Geralt, the Gwynbleidd?”</p><p>Jaskier finally looked up at Filavandrel, leaning against the medical supplies counter behind him. He figured if Filavandrel was gonna kill him, the elf would’ve done it already. “Not long. I treated him in the hospital a couple months ago, now, but only really talked to him last night.” Jaskier suddenly remembered why he’d been out so late at night. “Hey, can I check my phone real quick? I don’t want my friends to get worried about me.”</p><p>Filavandrel nodded, and took Jaskier’s phone out of his robes. He tossed it to the human, who just managed to catch it.</p><p>He quickly unlocked it to see an avalanche of texts from Priscilla, and one from Zoltan.</p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>10:34 PM</p>
</div>[Callonetta🦆🎵💛]: <em>I just want you to be happy. Staying up until 3 in the morning crying isn’t healthy, and you know it</em><p>[Callonetta🦆🎵💛]: <em>I know your work isn’t that bad, and you don’t mind working in the hospital, but I know you want more. Lived with you long enough lol</em></p>
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  <p>11:02 PM</p>
</div>[Callonetta🦆🎵💛]: <em>Ignoring me is real petty dandelion</em><p>[Callonetta🦆🎵💛]: <em>Anyway if you decide to not unfriend me on facebook you may wanna check out open mic at the Kingfisher, its how Valdo performed lol</em></p><p>[Callonetta🦆🎵💛]: <em>Might stop you crying at night anyway lmao</em></p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>12:44 AM</p>
</div>[Callonetta🦆🎵💛]: <em>Hope you got home alright</em><p>[Callonetta🦆🎵💛]: <em>My shirts fine you don’t have to pay for it or anything</em></p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>2:01 AM</p>
</div>[Callonetta🦆🎵💛]: <em>I really hope youre sleeping right now</em><p>[Callonetta🦆🎵💛]: <em>And not crying again lol</em></p><p>[Callonetta🦆🎵💛]: <em>If you are remember to drink water ig</em></p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>2:29 AM</p>
</div>[Callonetta🦆🎵💛]: <em>Julian fr are you ok?</em><p>Jaskier mulled over what Priscilla had sent, quickly sending her a “got home ok fell asleep immediately” text. Open mic meant he could play anything he wanted, since he wasn’t getting paid for it. An opportunity for the other idea he’d had while walking with Geralt last night. Quickly, he scrolled over to see what Zoltan had sent.</p>
<p></p><div>
  <p>2:22 AM</p>
</div>[Bitch🤏🪓❤️]: <em>priscilla fuckin woke me up to check on you fuckin text her u bastard</em><p>Jaskier snorted, then yawned borderline obnoxiously as he sent Zoltan a singular heart emoji.</p><p>“Sorry. Haven’t really slept.”</p><p>“You may sleep soon. I would like to reward you first.”</p><p>Jaskier stared at Filavandrel, who looked unperturbed at Jaskier’s confusion. “What?”</p><p>“I feel some remorse for how Toruviel treated you as captives. I had hoped we elves would show we were better than you humans in that regard, but Toruviel holds a deep grudge against your kind. I had thought she would be alright guarding you, as you were captive with Gwynbleidd, who we hold respect for. I was wrong,” Filavandrel explained. “You still treated us all, Toruviel herself included, and went without the copious amount of sleep you humans need. So I feel I should reward you in some way.” The elf king shrugged. “And, if you end up betraying us, I’ll get it back anyway.”</p><p>Jaskier rolled his eyes, glad he never planned to betray the elves anyway. “Alright. Well, what is this reward? I’m guessing it’s not gold.”</p><p>“No. It’ll be one of the magic items that we have managed to keep from Dol Blathanna,” Filavandrel admitted.</p><p>Jaskier’s eyes widened. “What? Why didn’t you sell those?”</p><p>“They are magic, and precious. In the wrong hands, some of the items could be used to commit atrocities. I would prefer to hand them off to those I can be sure would use them correctly,” Filavandrel explained. “I will blindfold you and lead you to where we keep them. Once there, you may choose one, then be blindfolded and led out again. Understand?”</p><p>Jaskier sighed, but supposed the blindfolding made sense. Filavandrel and the elves held these items extremely dear, and Jaskier couldn’t fault him for taking every precaution.</p><p>“Alright, fine. And then I can take a nap?”</p><p>“Yes, afterwards you can sleep.”</p><p>“Cool. Blindfold me up, baby,” Jaskier said, yawning again quickly and offering his face to Filavandrel. Filavandrel tied a cloth around Jaskier’s eyes, and it turned out to be extremely effective; Jaskier was blinded.</p><p>It took about ten minutes before the blindfold came off again, and Jaskier yawned once again and blinked blearily, taking in his surroundings. He appeared to be in some sort of underground chamber, with Filavandrel closing a thick wooden door behind them. He gestured for Jaskier to look around the room, and Jaskier did so with awe.</p><p>Elven creations were often praised for their craftsmanship, and Jaskier could see why. Everything from weapons to clothes to everyday objects like a pillow were on display in the room, and they all looked exquisitely made.</p><p>Jaskier pointed at the pillow. “What’s special about that?”</p><p>“It remains the perfect temperature throughout sleep, and will always be clean and fluffed. Largely useless to elves, who don’t need much sleep. Very much a luxury item for us,” Filavandrel said. “For you humans, however, it may be more useful. Is this the item you choose?”</p><p>“No, just curious,” Jaskier said, starting to wander around the room perusing items. There were a lot more than Jaskier would have guessed there were, and he wanted to choose carefully. He pointed at a cool, fancy-looking dagger, which was so shiny it appeared to shine its own light. “How about that one?”</p><p>“Once owned by the illustrious Francesca Findabair, Queen of Dol Blathanna. You have a good eye. This dagger in particular is exquisitely cruel. It can never fully kill its opponents, no matter where you stab, making it an excellent torture weapon for even the most inexperienced,” Filavandrel said.</p><p>“Yeah, I’ll pass on that,” Jaskier muttered, moving quickly away from the remaining weapons. As if by fate, his eyes landed on a nearby lute, sitting on top of blue velvet. His eyes widened, and he pointed to it. “What about the lute?”</p><p>“A standard elven lute, enchanted to never lose its color or vibrancy. The strings will never degrade nor snap, and the pegs are enchanted to keep the strings in tune whenever you play. Of course, it’s not protected from violence, if you intentionally try to break it, it will break. And it does nothing to enhance the player’s ability.” Filavandrel raised an eyebrow. “Is this the item you will choose?”</p><p>Jaskier gave a wide grin. “Absolutely,” he said, grabbing the neck of the lute. A warm feeling spread up his arm and settled deep in his gut as he did so, and he played a single chord, happy to hear it was perfectly in tune.</p><p>“I was unaware you could play,” Filavandrel admitted.</p><p>“Well. I hope to change that, someday,” Jaskier sighed, placing the lute in the case Filavandrel handed him. </p><p>“You’re an intriguing human. I feel you will do great things in your future.”</p><p>“Thanks, I hope so too.”</p><p>“I mean it, Dantyllew. I felt the same reservation about killing you as I did when I held my sword to Gwynbleidd’s throat, centuries ago. Though Dana Méadbh did not appear, I’m not one to disobey a feeling now so clearly sent by the gods,” Filavandrel said, his gaze piercing Jaskier’s eyes. Jaskier felt a shiver go down his spine, and goosebumps raise on his arms.</p><p>“Oh, okay,” he murmured, slinging his newly acquired lute over his shoulder carefully. Unsure how to respond to what Filavandrel had said, or even what the elf meant, he looked around the room once more. “Can I use that pillow, just once?”</p><p>“No,” Filavandrel replied, and placed the blindfold over Jaskier once again.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Before everything, I'd just like to say thanks to those of you who've been commenting! Tbh this is the first thing I've posted on this site that's serious, and I feel like I'm misleading y'all lmao. It's super sweet, I read all of them and they're very kind, I appreciate it a whole lot, they all make my day &lt;3 Anyway, back to business</p><p>If yall think Filavandrel’s being weirdly mean to Geralt I’m disagreeing. The shit this witcher goes through I s2g. And there’s no fucking way elves are any nicer to him than humans would be, elves are like. The snootiest, most hypocritical bastards to run around under the fucking sun. Anyway, please enjoy lol</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Again, don't really go into detail, but it's there. Some body horror due to Geralt taking potions, and Geralt's clearly in pain cause of it. One instance of self harm but like, not cause Geralt hates himself or anything, it's very practical, but it's there and they talk about it.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When Jaskier blearily came to, the sun was high in the sky, shining through the canvas of the tent around him. Someone was shaking his shoulder. He grumbled and dragged himself up to sit, yawning and rubbing the crust out of his eyes. “What, what?” he mumbled, peering at whoever was shaking his shoulder.</p><p>It was another elf, who stood up once they saw Jaskier was awake. “Your vatt’ghern has returned.”</p><p>Jaskier squinted up at the elf. “My what?”</p><p>The elf rolled their eyes and started walking out of the tent. “Your Geralt.”</p><p>The events of the night slammed back into Jaskier’s head, and he felt suddenly awake. Throwing off the blanket he’d been given, he rushed out into the daylight and was temporarily blinded. After blinking off the sun, Jaskier stared at the scene before him.</p><p>Filavandrel stood before Geralt, apparently furious about something to the point where the elf was gesturing with his hands.</p><p>Geralt, meanwhile, looked like shit. He had multiple scattered abrasions and fairly deep cuts around his body, all of which were bleeding sluggishly. What took Jaskier by surprise was how Geralt somehow managed to appear more pale, the veins in his face were darkened, and his pupils were so dilated his eyes looked solid black.</p><p>“Geralt!” Jaskier shouted, stumbling over to the witcher. Geralt looked over in surprise, and grunted as Jaskier collapsed into him a little. Ah, safety, Jaskier thought briefly. “Are you okay?”</p><p>“Hm,” Geralt hummed. </p><p>Jaskier took it as an affirmative, but looked over the other man anyway. There wasn’t anything too serious, but Jaskier was more concerned about the witcher’s face. Jaskier grabbed it in his hands and ran his thumbs over the witcher’s cheeks, feeling left over scars from long ago under his calloused pads. “What is this?” he murmured, almost unconsciously.</p><p>Geralt just stared at Jaskier, as far as Jaskier could tell, anyways. The amber of Geralt’s eyes peeked in at the far corners. He didn’t reply.</p><p>And then Jaskier suddenly realized how uncomfortable Geralt seemed, and Filavandrel next to them interrupted with, “Excuse me, I believe I was in the middle of a conversation.”</p><p>“Looked more like a one-sided shouting match,” Jaskier shot back, but stepped back and looked away as he felt his cheeks flush a little. </p><p>Geralt awkwardly shuffled and stared determinedly at the ground.</p><p>Filavandrel just glared.</p><p>“What’s going on?” Jaskier asked. “He’s back and it certainly looks like he encountered some monsters. You did as you said you would, right, Geralt?" When Geralt didn't verbally answer, Jaskier turned to find the Witcher had closed his eyes and was nodding. "There, see, Filavandrel? We both did what we said we would."</p><p>"He got one of my warriors killed," Filavandrel snapped in one of the most cold tones Jaskier had ever heard. Impressive, considering he worked with a group of sorceresses who all hated each other in some way.</p><p>“Oh. Well, what happened?”</p><p>“That’s precisely what I have been trying to figure out. Apparently Gwynbleidd left the other two warriors I gave him at the area once they all reached it, that much I have managed to get out of him. I do not know their condition. And now, monstrous as he looks, he refuses to talk to me at all except to inform me that one of my own has died while he stands here, alive, and apparently with no explanation!” The last bit of that rant was shouted directly at Geralt, who was doing his best impression of a cowed child. Jaskier noticed Geralt’s face was minutely scrunched up, tightness around his closed eyes that Jaskier just managed to catch.</p><p>“Hey, wait a minute. I’ve never seen these veins or whatever this black shit is Geralt’s got. Do you know what that is, Filavandrel?”</p><p>“It means he took a potion. There were two on him when he left.” Filavandrel’s lip curled. </p><p>“A potion, like a witcher’s potion? Do they all do this?” Jaskier continued to ask, grabbing Geralt’s shoulder and trying to shake it a little. He couldn’t. Geralt was as stiff as a boulder. “Geralt, are you okay?” he muttered into Geralt’s ear. Minutely, Geralt nodded, just enough for Jaskier to see and know Geralt was obviously lying.</p><p>“Yes, they all do this. Make him more hideously deformed than normal,” Filavandrel rolled his eyes, crossing his arms. “And it’s why I can’t understand why all of my warriors are not still alive.”</p><p>“You think he took those potions cause the trek through the forest was like a walk in the park?” Jaskier snarled, turning on Filavandrel. “Clearly he ran into trouble! How can you blame the witcher for the death of a soldier you sent with him into literal fucking jaws of monsters?”</p><p>“I didn’t realize Gwynbleidd was so incompetent as to get my soldiers killed,” Filavandrel replied, looking down at Jaskier with disdain.</p><p>“Geralt fought a path through an army of monsters he himself was certain could repel fucking Nilfgaard if they tried to get to you, and you’re gonna call him incompetent in any way?” Jaskier started shouting back.</p><p>“I will say whatever I want, human,” the elf king leered, “And yes. I am.”</p><p>Jaskier opened his mouth to start really getting into it with this bitch of an elf when he felt a gloved hand grasp his forearm. Geralt. Jaskier’s head whipped around to see the witcher’s eyes mostly back to normal, and his face, though shiny with sweat, back to its somewhat normal ashen gray pallor. Only a trace of black still ran through his face.</p><p>“I’m sorry for your loss, Filavandrel,” Geralt murmured. “We ran into a leshen, and your soldier died sacrificing themself to burn its totem before I could stop them.”</p><p>“That’s not your fault, Ger--” One squeeze of the hand on his forearm and a glance from the witcher, and Jaskier shut up.</p><p>“I’m sorry,” Geralt said again.</p><p>Filavandrel just kept staring coldly down at the both of them for a solid minute. Jaskier grew restless, and started shifting uncomfortably, though less than he would have had Geralt not kept his grip on Jaskier’s forearm. He desperately wanted to argue, but Geralt was right. The elf was too proud to change his mind.</p><p>“Grab your shit and get out of my sight,” Filavandrel eventually sneered, before turning and leaving the witcher and human standing there.</p><p>Geralt relaxed just the tiniest bit. Jaskier tried to ignore the disappointment he felt in his gut as the witcher let go of his forearm.</p><p>“Are you okay?” Jaskier asked.</p><p>“Why do you keep asking that,” Geralt huffed, turning away. “Go grab your stuff. We’re leaving.”</p><p>“I’m asking because you were clearly not,” Jaskier replied, taken aback. “I’m sure you take those potions for a good reason, but they were causing you some kind of harm, I can see it when people are in distress, Geralt. Here, let me see--” Jaskier went to examine Geralt’s face again, but his hands were batted away.</p><p>“Stop it. Just go get your shit,” the witcher dismissed Jaskier tersely. </p><p>Jaskier scoffed and threw his hands up. “Fine! I’ll do that, I guess,” he exclaimed, stomping off and feeling somewhat unreasonably mad. He knew in the back of his mind he was more pissed at Filavandrel than Geralt. He also just didn’t understand why Geralt acted so nonchalantly about his pain.</p><p>As Jaskier was having this thought, absentmindedly walking back out of his tent with lute over his shoulder, he realized in horror that Geralt was fucking cutting open the back of his hand and letting the blood drip onto a dirty piece of torn fabric.</p><p>“Gods -- Geralt!” Jaskier shrieked, springing forward and grabbing the hand that held the knife. Geralt grunted in surprise, and stared at Jaskier.</p><p>“What?” the witcher asked.</p><p>“You-- What? Why the fuck are you cutting yourself, you idiot?! Give me that--” Jaskier managed to wrest the knife out of Geralt’s hand, though he got the distinct feeling Geralt had let Jaskier do that.</p><p>Geralt shrugged and turned back to keeping his now open wound bleeding over the dirty piece of fabric.</p><p>“Melitele's tits, are all witchers like this? Answer me!” Jaskier demanded, now grabbing for Geralt’s bleeding hand as he dropped the knife to the ground. Geralt sighed and let Jaskier take his hand.</p><p>“No. I’m the only one like me,” Geralt said in a monotone.</p><p>Jaskier glared at Geralt and grumbled under his breath as he examined the cut. Geralt was moving his fingers, so no tendons had been severed. There was also less blood than there should have been; as Jaskier looked closer, he saw blood already clotting, much faster than normal blood, and flesh and skin knitting back together way too quickly. He dropped Geralt’s hand and sighed, putting his own face in his hands. Jaskier was so tired. “Why did you do that, Geralt?” he asked.</p><p>“This is part of Torque’s shirt. Blood’ll help me convince my employers the Sylvan’s been killed,” Geralt finally explained. “I doubt they know Sylvan’s blood is usually much brighter, with an orange tint to it.”</p><p>“Okay, but surely there was another way to do that? We could’ve splattered red Kool Aid on it and it would’ve been just as convincing,” Jaskier replied.</p><p>“Kool Aid costs money. This is already done.” Geralt started walking off, pausing to see if Jaskier would follow. When he saw Jaskier doing so, albeit in a bit of a huff and with his arms crossed, Geralt continued walking back to Novigrad.</p><p>“Kool Aid costs, like, 6 crowns at Walmart,” Jaskier grumbled.</p><p>“6 crowns saved,” Geralt replied. Jaskier spied the faint smile from the other night again, and his anger melted away. And then Geralt asked, “What’s that on your shoulder?”</p><p>“Oh, this thing?” Jaskier asked, indicating the lute on his shoulder with a shrug. Geralt nodded. “I got it from Filavandrel while you were gone. I don’t really understand why. He’s kind of a weird dude. Anyway, it’s an elven magical lute, apparently from Dol Blathanna,” Jaskier grinned. As he talked, he took it out of the case and started strumming a little tune as he walked. Not having to tune it before playing was so nice.</p><p>“He showed you his collection of things from Dol Blathanna?”</p><p>“He walked me there in a blindfold. Said something about how he felt bad about Toruviel mistreating us.”</p><p>“Hm,” Geralt hummed. There was a pause as Jaskier continued to strum chords on his lute. “I didn’t know you could play.”</p><p>“Well then, you should be happy to hear that I plan to change that,” Jaskier replied, smile spreading wider.</p><p>“It did 5 minutes ago, you’ve been playing for a while,” Geralt muttered.</p><p>“Ha, ha, Geralt. I meant for the general populace, then.” When Geralt didn’t reply, Jaskier figured he should prompt the man. “Wanna know how?”</p><p>“Not really,” Geralt replied.</p><p>“Well too bad. It has to do with you anyhow, grumpy pants,” Jaskier continued. “This lute just proves this must be my destiny.” He ignored Geralt’s snort. “It’s come to my attention a longtime rival of mine has been playing fucking acoustic guitar covers at the Kingfisher. Do you know where that is?”</p><p>“I was there on its opening night.”</p><p>“Right,” Jaskier moved on quickly, pretending he wasn’t embarrassed. “Well, I intend to one up him by one, being incredibly more talented with my new lute and my beautiful voice, which is better than his. And two, singing original songs along with covers of songs that are actually good.”</p><p>“And this has to do with me how?”</p><p>“I’ll be singing songs about you, of course!” Perhaps that was a bit forward, but life was short. For Jaskier, it would be, anyway. And Geralt still hadn’t killed him, so Jaskier figured his chances were pretty good that it wouldn’t be that short.</p><p>To his credit, Geralt only froze a little, his eyebrows raising a miniscule amount. “Songs about me?”</p><p>“Yeah, remember how last night I told you hospital material wasn’t really great for original songs? I can’t sing anything specific cause there’s the risk my patient will know, and anything too general is boring. But you, your life is full of so much excitement! I’ve only experienced one night with you by accident, and I wasn’t even with you the whole time, and I feel like I’ve had a whole adventure!”</p><p>“You never even left Novigrad’s lands.”</p><p>“Exactly! That’s how incredible it was!” Jaskier beamed up at Geralt, trilling a happy little tune on his lute. Geralt just glared at him and then looked away.</p><p>“No one wants to hear about a witcher,” he mumbled.</p><p>“Well, see, that’s where I think you’re wrong. And this is also why I think you should see it as an opportunity, my dear Geralt,” Jaskier continued, now unable to stop himself. “Most of what you hear of witchers is how they differ from others, which I think is bullshit. You’ve been involved in so much throughout history, and yet so little is known about any witcher, let alone you, specifically. No one’s ever heard your story. And I think my songs would be the perfect way to convey it!”</p><p>Geralt just grunted, though Jaskier was certain he heard uncertainty.</p><p>“I think you’ll be disappointed,” the witcher rumbled.</p><p>“Well, I think you’re wrong. I’ve been waiting for something like this.” Jaskier paused, fingers resting on the purple wood of his lute, silent and serious. “Geralt, if you don’t want me to sing about you, I won’t. I’ll leave you out of this adventure. But I would really like to. I don’t have to mention your name of anything, not much rhymes with Geralt off the top of my head, anyhow. But you would be the main focus of the song, since you’re central to the story.” Silence. “Please?”</p><p>Geralt looked at Jaskier, his strange amber gaze boring into Jaskier’s face. Jaskier held his gaze, hoping he was pleading enough with his eyes. For good measure, he added a bit of a pout.</p><p>Finally, the witcher looked back away and sighed. “Do what you want,” he grumbled, continuing to walk towards the gates of Novigrad. Jaskier smiled widely at Geralt’s back, and walked after the witcher with a skip in his step.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Using the pendant from the game cause it’s the most recent witcher media I consumed lol. Also looks cooler imo</p><p>School's started for me on top of work, so if shit was slow before it's gonna get even slower sorry</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Just bros bein dudes</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>As Geralt had told Jaskier to do what he wanted, Jaskier accompanied the witcher back to where he was staying in Novigrad. It turned out Geralt wasn’t living too far from where Jaskier currently lived. He was also in the Bits, renting a house with three other people, apparently.</p><p>“Just renting? It’s not yours?” Jaskier asked, staring up at the dump in front of him. Geralt’s house was propped up against another house, the entire thing tilted just enough to be noticeable. A repaint wouldn’t save the crumbling walls, much as someone had tried, and although tall it looked tiny. Perhaps it was rude to ask if Geralt owned it, but Jaskier was curious.</p><p>“I don’t normally live in Novigrad. Too loud,” Geralt muttered, opening the front door.</p><p>“I get it, not everyone likes the city,” Jaskier said, nodding. “I hope it’s not too unbearable.”</p><p>Geralt paused outside the door, his hand on the handle. “Why’d you follow me to my home again?”</p><p>“Oh, I assure you my intentions are pure. I would like to see to your self-inflicted hand wound, among the others you procured from the forest since you won't go to the hospital. And also ask you some questions. But hey, if you’d like impure intentions, I can certainly provide those too,” Jaskier said, making a show of looking Geralt up and down and then winking at the man. Then he appraised the house again and frowned. “Though I can’t imagine we can do anything too terribly rowdy here, I’d hate to be caught in a crumbling house wreck with my pants down.”</p><p>Geralt just stared back. “Haven’t you been asking questions between Filavandrel’s encampment and here constantly?”</p><p>“Perhaps. I don’t know, obviously they weren’t the important questions I want to ask!”</p><p>Geralt sighed and opened the door, and held it for Jaskier as he entered after Geralt.</p><p>The little room was filled with various baubles and sealed crates, none of which were recognizable to Jaskier. There was a cluttered path to the stairs across the room, with an offshoot leading to a tiny, barely functional kitchen. Someone was in the kitchen, Jaskier could hear whoever it was humming and making something, but Geralt walked right past to the stairs, so Jaskier followed.</p><p>It was another flight of stairs before Geralt stopped in a room, which Jaskier assumed was Geralt’s. The witcher’s room was very pragmatic, Jaskier supposed. Extremely minimal. There was a bed with exactly one pillow and one blanket, and some used rags covering bottles of cleaner in the corner. Next to the used rags was a little basket filled with equally dirty clothes. All of the clothes were black, so it was really a testament to how dirty they were. A small stove with an equally small saucepan sat in another corner, surrounded by ziploc baggies full of assorted herbs and other little tidbits Jaskier didn’t look too closely at. And that was it.</p><p>“Very, um. Clean,” Jaskier commented lightly, looking around for literally anything else. There wasn’t even a door leading to the dingy, attached bathroom.</p><p>“Thanks. Uh. . .” Geralt seemed to realize he didn’t have a chair for his self-imposing guest. “You can sit on the bed.”</p><p>“Nonsense, I’ll just stand,” Jaskier said.</p><p>“Jaskier,” Geralt rumbled, and Jaskier shivered at the sound of his name in Geralt’s mouth. He hoped it hadn’t been a visible shiver. “Did you know witchers can smell emotion?”</p><p>Jaskier blanched. “What?”</p><p>“Witchers have heightened senses, mine even more so. We can smell chemical balances in the human body, and witchers with enough experience can tell what certain chemicals mean when they’re produced in the human body as an emotional or physiological response. That, and I can hear your heart and breathing rate.”</p><p>“Bullshit.”</p><p>“Either way, it doesn’t take witcher senses to tell that you’re dead on your feet.”</p><p>“Fine, I’ll sit on the fucking bed. Melitele's tits,” Jaskier relented, “But you have to sit with me, Geralt. Bed’s big enough for that.”</p><p>“What for?”</p><p>“So I can examine and treat you properly. Can I grab water from your bathroom?”</p><p>“No. I’ll grab some water and alcohol from downstairs. Stay here,” the witcher said, turning to leave and surprisingly quietly shutting the door behind himself.</p><p>Jaskier was glad Geralt was gone so he could practically collapse on the bed, carefully placing his lute on the floor next to it before falling backwards on his back onto the bed. He hadn’t realized he’d been dozing until he felt water dripping on his face. Jaskier woke with a groan, sleepily slapping Geralt’s dripping hand away from his face.</p><p>“Fucking gross,” Jaskier grunted.</p><p>“It’s clean water. Did you know you snore?” Geralt informed him.</p><p>“Yeah, I’ve been told by many a bedfellow. They’ve gone in for seconds before, though, so it can’t be that bad,” Jaskier yawned after he wiped the water off his face with a sleeve. Geralt just snorted in response.</p><p>“Do you have any clean rags?” Jaskier asked. Geralt handed him one that was yellowed, but appeared pretty clean. Jaskier shrugged and dipped it into the basin of water Geralt had brought up, then poured some alcohol on it. He had Geralt sit down on the bed and take off his shirt, was unsuccessful in getting the man to take off his necklace, and tried his best not to ogle. The witcher was ridiculously muscled, of course, but Jaskier couldn’t help but also be concerned. Not only for the current cuts marring Geralt’s skin, as well as the absolute mass of scar tissue covering pretty much every other inch of him, but the fact that his muscles were so well defined was worrying.</p><p>“Got any bodybuilding competitions coming up?” Jaskier tried to ask casually.</p><p>Geralt just shook his head. “Skin’s too scarred and gray, and they’d say I’d cheated.”</p><p>“Are you eating okay?” Jaskier pressed. “Drinking regularly?”</p><p>Geralt hesitated, not even flinching as Jaskier poked at a nastier cut on his stomach. “This is just how I look.”</p><p>“That’s not how humans are supposed to look on a day to day basis.”</p><p>“I told you, I’m not human.”</p><p>Jaskier grunted in frustration, and tried to refrain from jabbing the cloth at Geralt. “You’re wrong, but I’m too tired to debate you on it right now. Maybe later.” Jaskier was not sure if he’d ever see Geralt again, but if he did, he was definitely going to work to change Geralt’s mind on this. If there was one thing Jaskier knew about witchers, it was that they were human too.</p><p>“So. Filavandrel called you Gwynbleidd, but all the other elves called you vatt’ghern. What’s up with that?” Jaskier asked.</p><p>“Do you mean, what do those words mean, or why does Filavandrel call me something different?”</p><p>“Both. I have no fucking clue about anything.”</p><p>Geralt sighed. “Gwynbleidd is literally white wolf in elvish. Vatt’ghern is the elvish equivalent of witcher.”</p><p>“White wolf? I’m guessing white because of the hair. But I thought all witchers had eyes like yours?” Maybe not as piercing and intelligent and hot, Jaskier thought, but he kept that to himself.</p><p>“You’re right, they do, mostly.”</p><p>“So. . . where does the wolf come from?”</p><p>“There’s different witcher schools. I’m from school of the wolf. It’s why my pendant looks like a wolf,” Geralt explained. Jaskier grabbed the pendant and examined it. He guessed it looked kind of like a wolf. It mostly just looked pointy, and really it could’ve been any animal with sharp teeth. Could’ve been a housecat. Jaskier kept that thought to himself, again, though, and went back to the task of cleaning Geralt’s wounds up.</p><p>“Filavandrel called me Dantylew while he was spouting some bullshit, in that treasure room with all the Dol Blathanna elvish stuff. Happen to know what that means?” Jaskier was expecting an elvish insult, and so was surprised at what Geralt said.</p><p>“It translates to Dandelion, technically,” the witcher said softly. “Literally it means tooth of the lion.”</p><p>“Those are two wildly different things,” Jaskier pointed out.</p><p>Geralt shrugged. “I didn’t come up with language. I just know it.”</p><p>Jaskier was quiet for a little, absentmindedly pouring just a little too much alcohol onto the open cut on the back of Geralt’s hand. He didn’t mention his old college nickname. Maybe Filavandrel had read his phone, the texts from Priscilla. He wouldn’t put it past the fucker.</p><p>He decided to change the subject. “What’s a leshen?”</p><p>Geralt’s gaze darkened slightly. “Malicious woodland spirit. They get worse the longer they’re alive.”</p><p>“Huh. What’s it look like?”</p><p>Geralt raised an eyebrow. “Um. Mean?”</p><p>Jaskier scoffed, slapping Geralt lightly on the arm with the sopping rag. “Stop it, you know what I mean.”</p><p>Geralt shifted uncomfortably. “I don’t know. It had long claws.”</p><p>“Okay, that’s a start,” Jaskier said, dropping the rag on the edge of the basin. As much as he wanted to suture some of the cuts, there was no need. Doing anything more would likely disrupt the witcher’s natural quick healing. He also figured the witcher had had a tetanus shot recently, due to his last visit at the hospital, and so didn't worry about it. When Geralt didn’t elaborate, Jaskier said, “it had long claws, and. . .?”</p><p>“Er. It dissolves into birds, and can summon wolves,” Geralt grumbled haltingly.</p><p>“That’s cool, but did it look human at all?” </p><p>“No.”</p><p>Geralt didn’t continue again, and Jaskier sighed. “You’re really building suspense, Geralt. Gonna need a little more.”</p><p>“What for?”</p><p>“For the song I’m gonna write, obviously. People like hearing about monsters being slain by cool and sexy heroes, particularly equally cool and sexy monsters,” Jaskier explained patiently.</p><p>Geralt looked perturbed and vaguely alarmed. “I’m not. . . a cool and sexy hero. And monsters aren’t, either. What the hell are you talking about?”</p><p>“Geralt, dear, listen. Songs, and the arts in general, thrive off of telling a good story. People like that sort of thing. And good stories are made of heroics and heartbreak, which I can tell you’re just full of,” Jaskier explained. “You fight monsters so others won’t have to do it and die. That’s pretty damn heroic.”</p><p>“I fight monsters for coin.”</p><p>“I work at the hospital for coin and you don’t see me being all stupid about it. You’ve gotta live somehow,” Jaskier argued, shrugging. “So please, Geralt, try. For me?” Jaskier wheedled at Geralt, giving his best puppy eyes.</p><p>Geralt just grunted, but then rolled his eyes and sighed, sinking a little into the bed. “Can I put a shirt on first?”</p><p>“Oh. Oh yeah, go ahead,” Jaskier blabbered, backing off and looking away. “You don’t need to ask me, we’re in your house.”</p><p>Geralt sat back on the bed, wearing a loose black shirt with a surprisingly low neckline that he'd pulled out from under the bed. Jaskier wondered whether the witcher had bought it or someone else had. He also realized the witcher kept his clean clothes under the bed, which was ridiculous, but Jaskier was in the man's home and refrained from saying anything. </p><p>“Leshens have. . . antlers. And black robes. They have skin like bark. And their heads usually look like deer skulls," Geralt eventually managed to say, clearly trying to some extent.</p><p>Jaskier took it. "Alright, I can work with that," he sighed. "Well, I suppose I should get out of your hair. Which, by the way, do you ever, like. . . clean it?"</p><p>Geralt stared. "What does that have to do with anything?"</p><p>"It's-- never mind," Jaskier sighed. Geralt's hair was filthy and matted, but neither of them had had time to clean up, so Jaskier let it be. "Anyway. If you'd like to hear it, I'll probably be performing that song I'll write this week during the Kingfisher's open mic night. And after that. . ." Jaskier's mind raced. What the hell. "After that, I'll visit. I'll get more stories out of you one way or another. I'll need more song material if I'm gonna make it as a musician."</p><p>Geralt gave a slight smile, one side of his mouth actually obviously quirking up, and Jaskier bloomed with pride and relief Geralt wasn't gonna outright refuse him. "Is that a threat, Jaskier?"</p><p>"You bet it is. Why don't you walk me home, Geralt? Wouldn't want to get run over by any more sylvans," Jaskier said, yawning. "And so you know where I live. Only fair."</p><p>"You don't think that's dangerous?"</p><p>"Oh please, Geralt. If you were gonna kill me, you would've done so last night," Jaskier said, rolling his eyes and picking up his lute.</p><p>Geralt's smile stayed on his face as he led Jaskier out of his house, then let Jaskier take the lead.</p><p>While Jaskier made inane chatter at Geralt the whole walk home, he thought about the witcher. A strange man, to be sure, but Jaskier saw how good he was at his core. Perhaps a bit prickly and distant, but with the way he was so often treated and his profession itself, Jaskier couldn't blame him. He was trying his best not to get hurt. Jaskier couldn't help but hope that someday, he and Geralt could at least be close friends, if not more. Jaskier wished it could be more. But Geralt had never seemed interested, hadn't responded to Jaskier's obvious looks and lewd talk, so it didn't seem likely the witcher was interested. Maybe he didn't even like men like that. </p><p>Well, Jaskier thought as his apartment complex came into view, now was as good a time as any to see if Geralt was remotely interested.</p><p>"Thank you, Geralt, I've never felt safer," Jaskier said outside the door to the complex. "Would you like anything? A drink, perhaps?"</p><p>"No, thanks," Geralt said, and Jaskier tried his best not to let disappointment show on his face. "I'd better get back."</p><p>"Alright. Do you think you can make it to the Kingfisher?"</p><p>"We'll see," Geralt replied. Jaskier had heard that enough times before to know Geralt meant no, and tried harder.</p><p>"Okay. See you around, then, Geralt," Jaskier said, watching Geralt's back after the witcher turned and left.</p><p>When Jaskier reached his bed, he collapsed on it and slept the best he had in a long time. It kept the disappointment and yearning deep in his gut at bay.</p>
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<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Chapter 9</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Back in the hospital like this story was meant to be lmfao<br/>The joke about Philippa’s eyesight was definitely intentional. Also all it says about Eskel’s age is “he was active in the 13th century” bitch that doesn’t tell me shit but okay. Anyway him and Geralt, and the sorceresses are at least a couple centuries old now I make the rules round these parts<br/>Not sure if it's obvious yet but. I fuckin hate Yen. I like her slightly more than Triss, but only slightly. So sorry if you like Yen, I just don't lmao. I'll still try to do her justice, but she probably won't be focused on nearly as much in this story as some of you may like.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Someone got a little stabbed, but it was off screen, we're just seeing the aftermath. Magical Racism™. Oh, slight body horror I guess, this chapter stars my boy Eskel bb!<br/>Something that's a little medical; when I describe something as left or right, especially if it's on a person, I mean that person's left or right pov, not jaskier's.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Work the next day was akin to torture. It was a Monday, first of all, which never boded well for any workplace. This included the hospital.</p><p>And, while Jaskier had gotten a shit ton of sleep the previous day, it was not enough to make up for the lack of sleep the night before. Nor did it make up for the continued ache and bruises on his gut and cheek, or the different ache that permeated his entire being. He couldn’t even hide the bruise on his cheek that well, and seriously debated skipping work. He could say he’d forgotten again. </p><p>But there he was at five past three, a venti vanilla latte with double espresso in hand, foundation caking his right cheek, staring blankly at the board on the computer screen. By the gods, Jaskier thought, I can’t focus enough to fucking read words.</p><p>“Rough night?"</p><p>Jaskier sighed. He’d forgotten Yen was the two today. “Sure,” he mumbled.</p><p>“Are you hung over right now?”</p><p>“No. Would’ve gotten just black if that was the case,” Jaskier replied, yawning into his elbow. He recognized the brush of chaos behind his eyes, and was careful to focus fully on trying to read the board. “Stop fucking reading my mind. I wasn’t drinking last night, I’m just tired.”</p><p>“Oh really?”</p><p>“You’d know if I was lying about being hung over, Yen. And it’s illegal to read my mind without my permission.”</p><p>“You going to turn me in to the guard over it?” Yen raised an eyebrow at Jaskier. “Or are you going to actually pick up a patient? Much as I’m sure Philippa loves seeing them.”</p><p>Jaskier heard Philippa’s snort from behind him and rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, I’m working on it,” he grumbled, squinting at the board with his nose about 2 inches from the screen in a last ditch effort to absorb literally anything. And, magically, his vision cleared and he saw something incredibly interesting.</p><p>“Hey, there’s a patient requesting you, Yen,” Jaskier said.</p><p>“What?” Yen snapped, clicking off of whatever shopping website she’d been on to look at the list. Then her eyes widened. Jaskier couldn’t help but be intrigued, and clicked the patient’s name to read the triage note.</p><p>It was some person named “Eskel Eskel.” Their triage note was one sentence: “Lac to R forearm, bleeding controlled at triage.” Something was odd about the name, besides the obvious, something Jaskier was sure he was forgetting.</p><p>“Um. Well, Yen, you gonna take that?” Jaskier asked, leaning away from the computer and raising an eyebrow at the doctor. “Deal with that, uh. Montgomery Montgomery situation?”</p><p>Yen snorted. “No. That’s a witcher.”</p><p>Jaskier blanked. “Um. So?”</p><p>“I’d rather not deal with witchers today. Jaskier, I think you could use the experience, considering how useless you were the last time we dealt with witchers here.”</p><p>Jaskier just stared, unsure how to process what Yen had just said. Then, “I was not useless, I was the only one that got our last witcher to settle down at all!”</p><p>“He gave me a 1 satisfaction score because of you.”</p><p>“What?! How do you know it was cause of me--”</p><p>“He wrote a note saying, and I quote, ‘Jaskier talked too much.’”</p><p>Jaskier absorbed that information, knowing full well it had been Geralt that wrote it. Ooh, that monochrome motherfucker was gonna hear about it the next time Jaskier saw him. Jaskier looked at this Eskel’s vitals, and saw that sure enough, they were about the same as Geralt and Lambert’s had been the last time witchers had been in the ER. Now, however, Jaskier had nothing to say back to Yen, and so conceded. Besides, he was curious about witchers anyway, and wanted to learn much more about them.</p><p>“What do you want me to tell him? Cause as pretty as I am, I’m not nearly as goth as you manage to be in scrubs,” Jaskier asked Yen, assigning his name to the patient. “I’d go so far as to say I’m the opposite.”</p><p>“Yes, your pink scrubs really make a statement,” Yen said, rolling her eyes. “Tell him I’m busy.”</p><p>“They’re salmon,” Jaskier retorted. “Fine. But you owe me.”</p><p>“Yeah, sure. It doesn’t sound like anything remotely serious, but just in case you fuck up, ask Philippa for help,” Yen said. </p><p>“I can handle a damned laceration,” Jaskier snapped, taking a long draw from his coffee before setting off. Since the local college in Novigrad and Oxenfurt had started holding classes, a lot of the scribes weren’t able to work as many hours, leaving shifts uncovered. He considered asking Philippa’s scribe, Greta, if she would like to accompany him, but she looked busy. Dara, who was working with Yen, was gone getting Yen food. He sighed before setting off, resigning himself to the fact that it would just be a terrible day. Hopefully Eskel was nicer than the other two witchers Jaskier had encountered.</p><p>As Jaskier walked towards the room, it hit him why the name had seemed odd; Ciri, the new scribe, had said her Uncle was named Eskel. Uncle Eskel. Considering it wasn’t a very common name in today’s age, he wondered if this was the same Eskel. He couldn’t ask, Ciri wasn’t working today and it wouldn’t be appropriate, just in case it wasn’t the same Eskel. Besides, Jaskier had heard somewhere that witchers were infertile, so Eskel having a brother that had then had a child was implausible. Perhaps it was just a rumor, but one that made sense; if witchers could’ve reproduced, they wouldn’t have had need for the old Law of Surprise. And on that thought, weren’t witchers taken from their parents at an early age? The more Jaskier interacted with witchers, the more it felt like he really knew nothing about them.</p><p>And, seeing as he was at work, it wouldn’t be a good time to question the witcher Eskel anyway.</p><p>Head swirling with questions, Jaskier did his best to concentrate anyway and knocked twice before entering the room, taking some foamy sanitizer from the dispenser on the wall as he walked in.</p><p>Later, Jaskier would hate that he froze in shock at the sight of the man sitting on the bed before him.</p><p>Eskel was a witcher to be sure. The vitals on the monitor and the cat-like amber eyes assured Jaskier of that fact. The man was just as broad-shouldered, if not more so, than Geralt was. Jaskier noticed that the man’s muscles were significantly less defined, and decided he’d bring it up to Geralt later. His hair was also a normal human color, not Geralt’s unnatural white. In fact, if not for the amber cat eyes and one other feature, Jaskier doubted the man would look any different from a normal human at first glance. That one other feature, however, was what made Jaskier halt in his tracks in the doorway. The right side of the witcher’s face was mangled horrifically, creating a gruesome, terrifying effect. It was clearly as healed as it could get, but the man couldn’t close his mouth completely, as whatever had done such damage to his face had torn apart his right upper lip. It left his teeth, the canines of which were unnaturally longer and sharpened, exposed constantly. It was almost strange to see that his right eye still functioned completely normally, blinking and all. Geralt had plenty of terrible scars, but none of them shone a light on the one that marred this man’s face. </p><p>And then the man spoke.</p><p>With a voice somehow deeper and more growly than Geralt’s was, the man rumbled, “Oh, hi. I thought the nurse already came in.”</p><p>Jaskier scrambled to recover, slapping his hands together and accidentally splashing sanitizer all over the floor. “Er, um, yes, she did. I’m Jaskier, I’m the nurse practitioner that’ll be treating you today.”</p><p>“Oh. Apologies,” Eskel mumbled. His right hand, the one attached to the injured arm, came up to scratch at the horrific scar. Despite everything, he looked. . . bashful.</p><p>“Oh, dear, I’m afraid I should be the one to apologize,” Jaskier quickly said, wiping off the excess sanitizer on his pants and grabbing a pair of disposable gloves. “I’m so terribly sorry, that was, um. Incredibly unprofessional of me.”</p><p>“Don’t be, I get it. I gotta look in the mirror every morning,” Eskel shrugged. He smiled at Jaskier, and despite the scar gnarling the man’s face further with the action, it was one of the most sincere smiles Jaskier had experienced. </p><p>Jaskier was at a loss. He couldn’t tell the man that wasn’t true, he wasn’t bad looking, when he’d stopped in the doorway literally in terror at how bad he looked. The guy was clearly intelligent, and Jaskier knew it would be an insult if he tried to deny it. So, Jaskier instead started doing his job.</p><p>“Right, well. Your chart lists your name a little strangely, I’m afraid the nurses at triage may have misheard. What would you like me to call you?”</p><p>“Eskel. They asked me for my first name and my last name, but I’ve only ever had the one name, despite how long it’s been.”</p><p>“Sorry for the confusion, I’ll make sure they fix your chart. Now, I see they bandaged the cut in triage, do you mind if I examine it?”</p><p>“Oh, it’ll be fine.”</p><p>Jaskier felt his eyelid twitch against his will. “Alright, well, sir, you’re in a hospital for it, so if you don’t mind, I’d like to examine you and make sure your statement will be true. You being a witcher does not change my plan of care that harshly.”</p><p>Eskel chuckled lightly. Jaskier idly wondered if Geralt could be as loose with his expression as this witcher was, under the right circumstances. “Truth be told, Jaskier, I came to talk with Yennefer.”</p><p>“Oh. Well, she’s busy right now, we are in the ER, after all. Busy city, and all that,” Jaskier said rather lamely. “You’re stuck with me.”</p><p>“Would you mind carrying on a message?”</p><p>“Uh, no, I can do that.”</p><p>“Well. To be honest, I just wanted to let her know we’re in Novigrad. One of the, er, friends I came here with wanted to let her know.”</p><p>“Oh, your friend?”</p><p>“Yeah. Someone else sliced up my arm though, haha.”</p><p>Jaskier froze yet again. “What?”</p><p>“Don’t worry, I stabbed him back.”</p><p>Jaskier spluttered, entirely unsure what was happening. Apparently all witchers were batshit crazy, polite smiles or not. “Well, um. Do you want to file a guard report?”</p><p>“Absolutely not. I appreciate the concern, though. Anyway, may I leave?”</p><p>“No, you may not!” Jaskier exclaimed, exasperated. Eskel’s eyebrows shot up, and Jaskier had to remind himself to calm down and fucking breathe. He’d dealt with plenty of strange and weird patients before. This encounter was well up there, even with the patient being as polite as could be. After a deep breath, Jaskier said, “At least let me examine your injury first. It would make me feel better. Okay? If you’d still like to leave afterwards, you can.”</p><p>Eskel nodded, a small, polite smile on his face. He wouldn’t meet Jaskier’s eyes, staring at the bandage on his arm instead. “Okay,” he eventually agreed.</p><p>Jaskier thanked the man as he unwrapped his bandage. “I know about your witcher’s quick healing, I’ve treated one of you before. I promise I’ll take it into consideration, okay?”</p><p>“Sure,” Eskel mumbled. “You’ve met a witcher here before? Who was it?”</p><p>“I’m not at liberty to say,” Jaskier said. “But I know they’re fine now, after treatment received here.”</p><p>“Well, that’s good. Thank you for that,” Eskel said.</p><p>Jaskier examined the wound. It wasn’t terribly deep, and clearly the arm and hand were still functioning normally, so Jaskier figured he’d do cosmetic stitches. No reason to add another scar to the plethora of others. He held the man’s arm and watched as blood sluggishly oozed from the cut. “Thanks for what?” Jaskier asked absentmindedly, reaching for a syringe of saline to clean some of the dried blood.</p><p>“For treating that witcher.”</p><p>“Of course. Wouldn’t be a proper ER if we didn’t treat everyone to the best of our ability,” Jaskier muttered. Eskel looked back up at Jaskier and gave another sincere smile.</p><p>Jaskier’s heart couldn’t handle how goddamn nice this witcher was. Of course Geralt was nice, but Geralt hid behind his rough exterior as much as he could, so it wasn’t obvious. He carefully placed the bandage back over the cut and backed away a little, turning to take the gloves off. A little hopelessly, he wished the witcher wouldn’t see the blush on his face. “Well, I figure we can do some cosmetic stitching. No point in, uh, leaving a scar.” Jaskier stumbled a little, but caught himself. “I’ll have the nurse come back and numb up the area, and rinse it out a little. What did you get stabbed with again? Sorry, I didn’t catch it.”</p><p>“I hadn’t said it, don’t worry,” Eskel replied. “It was a paring knife. I’d been in the kitchen cooking with my brothers when it happened about thirty minutes ago, now.”</p><p>“Like, your friends?”</p><p>“Yeah, sorry. My friends.”</p><p>“So, did one of your friends stab you, or did someone break in?”</p><p>“It was one of my friends, yeah. Don’t worry, it was in good fun.”</p><p>“Well, I can’t make you file a guard report, but I would highly suggest it. Your friends don’t sound particularly nice,” Jaskier said. “Last tetanus shot?”</p><p>“I don’t want one. Thanks,” Eskel replied with a smile.</p><p>“Alright. I’ll see you in a bit, then.” Jaskier went to leave, tossing the gloves in a trashcan.</p><p>“Wait,” Eskel suddenly said. Jaskier turned in the doorway.</p><p>“Yes? What is it?” He asked, hand on the door handle.</p><p>“I think I frightened your nurse. Would you mind doing the numbing and everything yourself? I got the feeling she, um. Doesn’t want to touch me,” Eskel muttered.</p><p>Jaskier’s stomach dropped, and was replaced by anger, which he hoped didn’t show on his face. “I’ll talk to the nurse about it. I’m terribly sorry you got that feeling, Eskel.”</p><p>“It’s not a big deal, I’m used to it.”</p><p>Jaskier had to actually almost physically restrain himself from arguing with Eskel about how not okay that was at all. Just barely managing, Jaskier gave a small nod and a smile, then went to tell off the nurse. That sort of behavior could not be acceptable. On the way, he told Yen about Eskel, and she just laughed and told him to discharge the witcher with no reply from her.</p><p>Working in a hospital with old sorceresses had its perks, as much as Novigrad’s hierarch preached sorceresses could do nothing but evil. For example, enchanted medicines were incredible. Instead of waiting for the injected lidocaine to take effect, which normally took around thirty minutes for full numbness, Jaskier could start immediately. It meant the sutures made sense despite the witcher’s accelerated healing; if there was a scar after, it would be gone within the week. Jaskier feared if he’d had to wait the full time for the lido, it would be too late for the sutures, and another scar would appear.</p><p>As Jaskier stitched up Eskel’s knife wound, he tried his best to make small talk. Despite his thoughts being filled by one for the past two days, Jaskier still knew laughably little about witchers. He didn’t want to accidentally bring up something he shouldn’t have, but if it stayed silent for much longer Jaskier was going to lose his mind.</p><p>“Are you from around here?” Jaskier asked.</p><p>“Probably not. I don’t normally live here, either,” Eskel replied, watching the site openly as Jaskier stitched it up. It was strange; Jaskier didn’t think someone watching their own stitching happening had happened in his career before, actually.</p><p>“Oh, visiting?”</p><p>“Living here for the summer, probably.”</p><p>“Very cool,” Jaskier said absentmindedly. He washed some small specks of blood away with more saline before continuing with, “Are you enjoying your time in Novigrad?”</p><p>“Not really.”</p><p>“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.”</p><p>“Yeah, it’s worse for our kind. Too. . . much going on. Leads easily to sensory overload and sleeplessness,” Eskel responded, slightly indicating his ears with a tilt of the head.</p><p>Jaskier vaguely remembered Geralt talking about enhanced senses, and wondered how that worked. It also confirmed the witchers avoiding cities rumor, which now made sense; if witchers had enhanced hearing, and gods forbid, enhanced smelling, of course cities would bother them. The smell of sewage and crowded areas bothered Jaskier sometimes, and he had normal senses. “Well, at least you’re only here for the summer. Winter plans?”</p><p>“Yeah, I’ll probably winter in Kaer Morhen. Again,” Eskel sighed.</p><p>“Kaer Morhen?”</p><p>“Yeah, it’s uh. Well. Kind of home,” Eskel hesitatingly replied. Well, Jaskier thought, lack of literally any description in conversation was another trait witchers had in common. </p><p>“I see. If you don’t mind, what are you doing in Novigrad?”</p><p>“Helping one of my friends out.”</p><p>“Is this the friend that stabbed you, or a different friend?”</p><p>Eskel gave a small chuckle. “Different friend.”</p><p>“Well, I suppose that’s all right then. And I’m done stitching up your arm,” Jaskier said, tying the last knot off and dumping the needle. “I would like you to go to your primary doctor in about a week to have the sutures removed, or to come back here if that’s not an option and have them removed then. Or sooner, if the skin heals fast enough.” Jaskier sighed. “I’m terribly sorry, I don’t quite know when, actually. To be honest, Eskel, they don’t teach us anything about witchers.”</p><p>“I know. I don’t know the last time I’ve been in a hospital, but it hasn’t changed much,” Eskel sighed. “Thank you very much for trying, though.”</p><p>“Of course! I promise I’ll be better equipped if you come back with any more injuries, dear witcher,” Jaskier said, smiling. Eskel’s face became less and less terrifying with every moment Jaskier spent with the man; it really was just that, a scar. Jaskier would be sure to talk with Yen about that fucking nurse. “Do you have any other questions for me?”</p><p>“No. I apologize that you had to see me, though,” Eskel muttered, itching at his facial scar. </p><p>“Oh, no need to apologize, dear. In fact, I apologize Yen couldn’t see you today,” Jaskier replied.</p><p>“Well, she had good reason.”</p><p>Jaskier managed not to hesitate, but since he’d heard Geralt say that shit about smelling emotions, he was sure Eskel knew he was lying through his teeth. “Yes, we’re always busy in this ER. Anyway, let me get your discharge papers for you, and then you can get out of here!”</p><p>Later, Jaskier saw Eskel had filled out the patient satisfaction survey, and had given him the highest scores possible. Jaskier absolutely rubbed it in Yennefer’s face. The nurse was also fired, and blacklisted.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Chapter 10</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Yall holy shit??? 1k hits????? thank you. anyway<br/>What am I doing with Regis? Who truly knows. Anyway I did some research and it feels like the original author didn’t know either lmaooo<br/>Also a personal pet peeve, I hate reading song lyrics in stories. So I’m not doing that lol. If you wanna hear the songs mentioned, I highly suggest listening to them later; obviously toss a coin, but there may be others later. Hey even the title’s a song 👀</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Mentions of some gore and horror, and Valdo Marx is a little bitch</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Open mic night at the Kingfisher only happened once a week on Friday nights, and Jaskier was determined to perform on the first opportunity. Unfortunately that only gave Jaskier about four days to write a song around work.</p><p>So Priscilla still gave him a hard time about playing the lute at 3 in the morning, and Zoltan and Regis, now, were annoyed at the man due to Priscilla’s complaining.</p><p>But there Jaskier was with one original song and two covers, ready to go, at nine o’clock PM in the Kingfisher. Open mic didn’t start until ten, but Jaskier wanted to be sure he made the list of performers, near the beginning. After signing up successfully as the very first to go, Jaskier trailed to the bar and ordered a soda. No point getting drunk yet. Jaskier had seen Marx’s name on the list, performing third, and decided he’d wait on his decision to get drunk until after his longtime rival performed. Jaskier was confident, but audiences could be fickle, and if there’s one thing Valdo Marx knew what to do, it was to play it safe and pander to audiences.</p><p>Jaskier’s internal grumbling about Valdo Marx’s cowardly ways was interrupted by Regis. Of course he was here first, the vampire basically lived at the Kingfisher now.</p><p>“New instrument?” Regis remarked, sliding into the seat next to Jaskier and ordering whiskey on the rocks.</p><p>“Yeah.” Jaskier wondered if he should tell Regis where he’d gotten it. Surely there would be no harm in doing so. But then, Jaskier had written a song about most of the events anyhow, so figured he’d wait for his friends to ask after they’d heard the song. And then he realized it’d be weird if he didn’t say anything more. “You doing okay here, staying at the Kingfisher? I imagine it’s a vast improvement over the sewers.”</p><p>“Quite so,” Regis replied, glancing strangely at Jaskier but not saying anything further about the lute. “I shall have to buy drinks for Zoltan tonight, it is the least I can do. And you, my friend, must remember to buy Priscilla her drinks tonight.”</p><p>“Yeah, yeah, I know. I owe her that for sure.” Jaskier hesitated, sipping thoughtfully at his soda. The bartender had stuck a curly straw in the tall glass, and Jaskier would be damned if he wasn’t going to use it. “If you ever have any trouble, you know you can come to me, right, Regis?”</p><p>Regis stared at Jaskier, nothing but seriousness in his expression. “Of course I do. And the same goes for you, of course.” Then Regis’s brow furrowed. “Why do you mention it?”</p><p>“You knew I was in Novigrad, but you didn’t ask for help or anything from me, and went to live in the sewers instead.” Jaskier shrugged. “I just wanted to make sure you knew, since you seemed to have forgotten.”</p><p>Regis sighed, and nodded, sipping slowly at his own drink. “I’m sorry, Jaskier. I had just hoped I could keep you out of this business I’m involved in as much as possible.”</p><p>Jaskier kept sipping at his drink. It infuriated him that Regis refused to tell Jaskier why he was in Novigrad, especially since it seemed so important and, apparently, dangerous. But Jaskier also knew how powerful Regis was, and wanted to avoid getting on the vampire’s bad side in any way. The memory of seeing the vampire in action was seared into his mind, and while Jaskier would never admit it, especially to Regis, it had caused nightmares on multiple occasions. </p><p>Jaskier would just have to trust that Regis would tell him if he needed help.</p><p>And while Jaskier doubted he could do much for the vampire, they’d helped each other in life changing ways before. After Jaskier had received his degrees, he’d been forced to study for his current occupation at his parent’s estate. Doing so while being actively manipulated to become Viscount for his parents had been torture, on top of the fact that Jaskier hadn’t even been studying for his exact dream job. He had practically been a prisoner in his own home. Which was why Zoltan had helped Jaskier escape his parent’s house one spring evening, when Jaskier couldn’t take it any longer.</p><p>Jaskier could not have known his family would be attacked that night, as he had been unaware of his parent’s involvement in local politics and the coming war. Nilfgaard had left nothing alive in that estate.</p><p>Zoltan helped Jaskier make his escape, but they hadn’t been aware of the pursuit of fucking Nilfgaard until Jaskier had been shot in the thigh with a crossbow bolt. They’d only just managed to reach a nearby cottage when a squad of Nilfgaardians had caught up with them. It was only pure coincidence that Regis had lived in that cottage, and seeing what he could of the situation, promptly attacked and killed the entire squad of Nilfgaardians in about ten seconds. Regis decided to accompany the group to safety, treating Jaskier’s wound along the way, as the war had progressed so far north that Regis felt he could no longer live in that cottage without Nilfgaard continuing to knock on his door. Meanwhile, Jaskier did all he could to help Regis with his addictions. Regis and Zoltan left once Jaskier was settled in Oxenfurt, given a new name and set up with his parent’s old fortune to get him through the rest of his education with the help of Priscilla.</p><p>Jaskier’s reminiscing was interrupted by a heavy slap on his back, and he narrowly kept himself from choking on his soda. </p><p>“Fucking hell, Zoltan,” Jaskier hissed, carefully setting his soda down to avoid any more spilling onto the counter. The bartender was already shooting him nasty looks, and Jaskier just glared once back. It wasn’t like he’d spilled on purpose.</p><p>“I’m proud of ye, boy!” Zoltan roared, clapping Jaskier just a little lighter on the shoulder again. “Ye’ve finally grown stones and decided to perform!”</p><p>“It’s not cause I’ve grown stones, dumbass. It’s cause I have material,” Jaskier replied, proudly sitting up straighter on his barstool. "Though rest assured, my stones are present," he quickly amended.</p><p>“Oh? You’ve finally found a muse, dear Dandelion?” Priscilla walked up next to Regis, sliding into a barstool of her own. Jaskier tried not to take offense to her sitting the farthest away from him as she could in their little group. “Would this have anything to do with you sleeping so heavily a few nights ago?”</p><p>“Ha, ha,” Jaskier rolled his eyes, sipping a bit of his soda to avoid really answering. Jaskier was a decent liar, but he’d never been able to fool Priscilla. </p><p>“Well, who was it? A redhead or a brunette this time?” Priscilla pressed, intent on finding out. She’d never believed Jaskier’s text saying he’d fallen asleep as soon as he’d gotten home, and Jaskier supposed that was fair. Considering how badly he’d fucked up at the Sturgeon, though, Jaskier was glad his friend believed he’d still been able to pick up a lover afterwards. Better than suspecting anything else, though he expected he’d have to come clean after he performed to some degree.</p><p>“It was neither, I’ll have you know,” Jaskier said haughtily.</p><p>“Uff, now I want to know,” Zoltan grumbled from next to Jaskier, ordering a beer of some kind. </p><p>“Well, you’ll find out after the performance, then,” Jaskier replied lightly, calling the bartender over to order a martini for Priscilla. He knew what she’d like, and hopefully it would get her off his back for right now. And it did; the margarita arrived, and Jaskier sighed in relief as Priscilla took the bait. </p><p>While making small talk with the rest of his friends, Jaskier found himself growing more and more antsy. He realized he was nervous, which was not something he’d really been since his Oxenfurt days. It was strange, and Jaskier wasn’t sure why; the songs were fine, he knew this, if his original flopped (which it wouldn’t) then he had the covers to fall back on. And for fuck’s sake, he had a magical lute now. His own skill on it was unmatched, and now he could be sure the instrument wouldn’t fail him. And then he realized why he was so nervous.</p><p>As the man glanced around the tavern, there was no sign of the black armor, white mane, nor amber eyes of Geralt. Jaskier was unsure what he’d think if the man showed up. He’d told Geralt about this, right? Wait, did he? He couldn’t remember if he had. And he’d signed up to go first; what if Geralt was late?</p><p>Above all, what if Geralt didn’t show?</p><p>Well, Jaskier thought, if the witcher didn’t show, he’d take it as the obvious sign it was; the witcher just wasn’t that interested. At that thought, Jaskier’s ego took a bit of a hit, irrational as it was. It was still early, first off, the witcher could show up. And secondly, he may not have been into men, which nothing in the universe could change.</p><p>And then those who were performing for open mic night were being called backstage.</p><p>Jaskier took his leave, buying Priscilla one more drink so hopefully she wouldn’t drill him too much for details afterwards. Hoisting his lute over his shoulder, he took off. He took great pleasure in observing everyone else’s shocked faces upon seeing his lute, including Valdo Marx’s, who looked struck for a second before his face contorted into a grimace.</p><p>“Oh, Julian. How nice to see you’ve managed to find another fossil to embarrass yourself onstage with.”</p><p>“Valdo! I forgot you were incapable of remembering anything past two days ago. You can’t even remember my name. Let me remind you,” Jaskier snarled, leaning in and twanging the E string on Valdo’s stupid, shiny acoustic guitar before he could yank it out of reach. “The name’s Jaskier.”</p><p>“Really? Because you still act like the Julian who drank himself silly the night before and passed out during his first audition,” Valdo sneered. Jaskier felt heat rise to his cheeks, uncaring at this point that everyone backstage was now watching.</p><p>“And yet, I still managed to snag that scholarship from under your talentless nose. Or had you forgotten that bit? A drunkard beat the prodigious Valdo?” Jaskier grinned as Valdo’s face turned red as a tomato.</p><p>“And who pays the bills now, hm? Still riding on the coattails of mummy and daddy? Oh, wait, I forgot,” Valdo sniped back, reaching out to touch Jaskier’s lute before Jaskier could see. “All they’ve left you is ashes!” And Valdo Marx stuck a finger under the single string of Jaskier's lute.</p><p>Jaskier shrieked and managed to wrestle his lute away from Valdo Marx’s greasy fingers without it coming to harm. “You motherfucking bastard--!!”</p><p>“Whoever Dandelion is, you’re on in one!” some bored handler called out. Jaskier took several deep breaths and patted his lute, double checking that Valdo hadn’t snapped any of the strings. Valdo had one of the ugliest fucking smiles Jaskier had seen on a face. </p><p>“Well, Dandy,” Valdo mocked, “Have a fun time on stage. I’m sure you’ll get a reaction of some kind.”</p><p>“Likewise, Valdo. Hopefully you’ll get a reaction at all,” Jaskier replied with a brilliant smile, happy to feel his cheeks were a little less heated than before. Too rosy, and the audience would key in to how angry Jaskier was. Leave it to Valdo to press all his buttons, and then some.</p><p>Jaskier forgot all about Valdo, however, as he stepped on stage. It was no great stage, of course; it was open mic night at the Kingfisher, and it smelled of cheap alcohol and mildew. The lights were at strange angles and the floor was dusty and warped. The microphone didn’t work until Jaskier tapped it several times.</p><p>There was nowhere else he’d rather be.</p><p>While the lights kept him from seeing out into the audience, he heard the applause, heard his friends make up for the lack of enthusiasm from the regular tavern goers. That was alright. Jaskier would change that quickly. And while he could only see vaguely shifting shadows, he knew there was a chance Geralt could be in the crowd, and his heart fluttered just a little bit more.</p><p>He played the covers first, figuring it would be best to warm up the audience with something familiar, something safer. It went off without a hitch, and Jaskier could feel the energy and attention now as he geared up for his original song. All according to plan. He let his lute’s weight hang around his neck, balanced lightly with his other hand, as he took the mic in hand to announce his song.</p><p>“Thank you so much, dear audience, for listening! My set is almost over, unfortunately,” and Jaskier paused briefly. He was relieved to hear groans instead of silence or, gods forbid, cheering, and they weren’t all those of his friends, either, so it was going well. Jaskier gave a stunning smile and a quick wink and said, “Luckily, I’ll be finishing with an original I wrote just this past week. Here’s ‘Toss a coin to your witcher.'" He knew the title was a little wordy, but it should still work. The energy changed to one of anticipation, and Jaskier finished his performance to much applause and cheering. He was delighted to see coins being tossed at him as he bowed, though the song was technically for the witcher. Well, Jaskier thought, if he saw the man in the audience, he’d give the collected coin to him.</p><p>And then some of the lights shut off for the next performer, and Jaskier was able to see out in the audience.</p><p>Not a white head in sight. No reflective amber eyes peering at the stage. No bulky outline of armor.</p><p>No Geralt.</p><p>He quickly exited the stage, not even appreciating Valdo’s dumb, furious tomato face as he packed his lute away. The performance had went excellently, the crowd had loved it. He knew there was only one reason why the heavy, sickening feeling of deep disappointment had settled in his gut. It was deeper than he thought it’d be, and that thought just made it sink lower.</p><p>Regardless, he did his best to go back to the bar and his friends with a smile on his face.</p><p>Jaskier was not expecting the very enthusiastic reception from a lot of the audience either, and some of the disappointment was lifted by the fact that at least five people were now making eyes at him. He decided he’d make a pass at a particularly fine-looking platinum blonde after his friends congratulated him and drilled him for details. It was easy to not give away anything important due to the fact that Jaskier had used a lot of artistic liberty to make the whole thing sound more epic, though Regis and Zoltan were asking weird leading questions. Priscilla may have caught on to the fact that Jaskier wasn’t as happy as he was acting, but she didn’t say anything, just kept shooting him concerned looks. All of them ignored Valdo’s performance, which was about as average as average could get.</p><p>Eventually, Jaskier took his leave from his friends, being sure to pay for Priscilla’s drink, and went to talk up the platinum blonde. She was truly lovely, and Jaskier drank in her creamy skin and pretty brown eyes as she agreed to go back to his place.</p><p>As Jaskier fell asleep that night, lightly petting the sated woman drooling on his chest, he was saddened to find the disappointment hadn’t disappeared at all.</p>
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<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Chapter 11</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>This chapter is eh. But whatever, it's short, I'll upload a long boy soon. I only know about Shani from the DLC in Witcher 3, really, and I know she’s done more in previous installments and the books but. Then I remembered. I’m allowed to not do research if I don’t want to lmao<br/>Hey also, especially since that Netflix bts thing came out, like, I get it. Dandelion/Jaskier’s a great character, obviously I like him too, but y’all. The story is about Geralt. It’s called “The Witcher.” And especially since the Netflix show came out and sort of butchered the boys’ relationship, especially the mountaintop incident, there’s been a weird amount of people just, not liking Geralt? Full offense but I fucking love Geralt, leave my mans and the show writers and actors alone, that shit’s not cool. I’m not a huge fan of the show either but that’s no excuse to fucking bully real life people, maybe play the games or read the books or do something else.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Mostly in the hospital but nothing really happens :P</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jaskier recognized the new nurse as soon as she made an appearance, surprisingly soon after the last one had been fired.</p><p>“Shani!” he crowed as he walked in to work, almost spilling his latte as he rushed to hug her.</p><p>“Oh my gosh, Dandelion! You work here?” the red-headed nurse, Shani, exclaimed. She quickly stood and gently met Jaskier’s enthusiastic hug, a wide smile on her face. </p><p>“Yeah I do! You should’ve let me know you were gonna work here, I would’ve referred you,” Jaskier replied. Then he broke the hug and stood in front of the nurse, setting the latte down nearby. “Last I heard you were on the Redanian front! I’ve been so worried.”</p><p>“I appreciate that, Dandelion,” Shani said, smiling shyly now. “And yes, I was. I’m on leave right now.”</p><p>“Oh? The war’s still going on, though. Are you okay?” Jaskier suddenly asked, looking Shani over quickly.</p><p>Shani laughed. “I’m fine. I managed to get time off to get married.”</p><p>Jaskier stared. “You’re. . . what? Oh my gosh, really?!” </p><p>Shani raised a hand to show a ring on her finger, and Jaskier gasped, grabbing the hand to inspect the ring. It was deceptively intricate, braids of braids of silver winding around her finger. Jaskier was almost jealous, and realized it must’ve been expensive, even if only silver.</p><p>“Wait, you’re on your time off? Why are you working here? You’ve gotta be preparing for the wedding!” Jaskier said, dropping her hand. </p><p>“Just part-time. Frontline medic doesn’t really pay as much as it should, and my wife’s parents are really pushing for a large wedding.”</p><p>“There’s no way it’ll be in Novigrad, then.”</p><p>“No, it’ll be in the countryside. We’re still planning exactly where, the wedding probably won’t happen for another month or so. I would’ve been fine with a small little ceremony, but her parents are insisting on this big old event, so now my wife is, too. And I’m helpless but to oblige,” Shani gave a small smile, blushing. “She’s always been there for me, so I must be for her. And her parents are paying for most of it. They probably would’ve paid for all of it if I’d allowed it.”</p><p>“And thank goodness for that, too. Weddings are a wonderful occasion, they should be celebrated to the fullest! Who’s the lucky lady?”</p><p>“Do you remember Aldona Lamch?”</p><p>Jaskier wracked his brain. The name sounded vaguely familiar, but Oxenfurt had been a fair number of years ago.</p><p>“She went to university with us, right?” Jaskier eventually replied.</p><p>Shani grinned. “Yeah, but she got pulled out after the first year due to financial stuff. We kept in touch, though, and then, well. Everything happened.” Shani sighed, and then giggled, clearly excited just thinking about it. Her mood was infectious; despite the twelve hour shift coming up and his continued pit of disappointment deep in his stomach, he felt some tension lift from his shoulders.</p><p>“That’s wonderful, Shani. Congratulations!” Jaskier beamed. “You should be taking time off to plan for the wedding, then!”</p><p>“Oh, her parents insisted on having a big ol’ event, so they’re doing all the planning. I’ll just be along for the ride,” Shani dismissed him.</p><p>“Well, that’s alright then. It’ll be like a surprise party. You must show me pictures of the dress and the cake!”</p><p>Shani looked at Jaskier with surprise, then scoffed at him. “Oh, don’t be silly, of course you’re invited. We just haven’t gotten around to sending out the invitations yet. Though, now that you remind me, I should text them about that, make sure the guest list is all in order.”</p><p>“When is it?”</p><p>“The wedding will be about half a year from now, maybe a little later. Late spring or early summer,” Shani said, shrugging. "My parents are happy with it, too, which was a damn miracle.”</p><p>“Perfect. I’ll be sure to show,” Jaskier replied. “What rooms are you working today?”</p><p>“Nine through twelve.”</p><p>“I’ll be sure to avoid those rooms, then,” Jaskier said, giggling when Shani rolled her eyes and lightly punched him in the shoulder.</p><p>Halfway through his shift, Jaskier saw Eskel pop up on the board in the waiting room for suture removal. To Jaskier’s surprise and immense pride, Eskel had requested him. Five minutes later, he was put in triage. When Jaskier looked to his right, he saw Ciri, his scribe for today, about to vibrate out of her chair with excitement.</p><p>“I’m guessing you know the witcher?” Jaskier wryly said. </p><p>“Yeah, he’s my Uncle Eskel,” Ciri replied.</p><p>“Well, let’s go visit him then,” Jaskier said. Ciri nearly leapt out of her seat as Jaskier slowly sipped his latte and stood, stretching a bit before setting off for triage.</p><p>It was a bit strange, having a witcher for an uncle. Wasn’t it? Maybe it was more of a friend thing, Jaskier thought. Eskel had said he was very old, and witchers were infertile, so there was no way it was biological. Maybe Eskel was just really good friends with Ciri’s dad. It was a strange friendship, but it wasn’t his business. After all, Jaskier was friends with a witcher, sort of. Hopefully. Maybe he’d ask Ciri about it later; they had a whole shift. And, in the meantime, Jaskier wouldn’t have to worry about Ciri freaking out regarding Eskel’s facial scars and the whole witcher thing in general. </p><p>Eskel grinned at Jaskier as he entered the room. And then it spread into one of the loveliest smiles Jaskier had seen as Ciri walked into the room after him.</p><p>“Hi Ciri, it’s nice to see you,” Eskel rumbled.</p><p>“Nice to see you again too, Eskel,” Jaskier said drily, and chuckled when Eskel looked bashful and scratched at his scar. In doing so, Jaskier caught a glance at his right arm, and saw the wound had healed beautifully, with next to no scarring. Smugly, Jaskier turned and shut the door, suture removal kit in hand.</p><p>“Er, yes. I’d heard from Ciri that you’d be working with her today, and you’ve seen me before anyway, and. . .” Eskel sheepishly trailed off.</p><p>“It’s always a pleasure to see you, Eskel. I trust there were no complications with the sutures?" Jaskier asked.</p><p>"None at all. It's. . . nice, not to have to look at, well. Another scar," Eskel said, continuing to nervously itch at his facial scar. Jaskier jumped when Ciri suddenly walked up and slapped Eskel's hand away.</p><p>"Stop doing that, you don't want it to bleed and become worse again," she scolded him.</p><p>"Ciri, I know he's your uncle, but we're working. Please step back," Jaskier said, sternly looking at Ciri. She rolled her eyes, but did as told. Eskel looked at Jaskier with some respect, and Jaskier basked in it.</p><p>"Wish she listened to me like that," Eskel muttered.</p><p>"Well, I can't tell you how to, uh, talk to your niece. But I find if you have a good reason, people will usually listen," Jaskier said. He'd opened the kit and was rinsing off Eskel's arm with saline, as a bit of dried blood had accumulated around the sutures. Eskel just smiled slightly in reply, giving a small shrug of the shoulders. Jaskier noticed there were spikes all over Eskel’s shoulder armor, which was adorable. He quickly finished cutting through and removing all of the sutures. Excepting wanting to leave before being evaluated during that first visit, Eskel was one of the best patients Jaskier had treated in a long time.</p><p>“And all done,” Jaskier said, throwing the kit and sutures in the garbage. “Any questions for me?”</p><p>Eskel hesitated, glancing once at Ciri, and then smiled, shaking his head. “No, thanks though. It’s nice, not having another scar to look at.”</p><p>“Scars are never a bad thing, but it’s nice to avoid them when we can, hm? And, er, let’s try not to let our friends stab us again, alright?” Jaskier replied, taking off the gloves and heading for the door. </p><p>Eskel chuckled and nodded. “Alright.”</p><p>“I’ll print off your papers, and then you can get outta here. Sound good?”</p><p>“Yup. Thanks again, Jaskier.”</p><p>“Oh, it’s my pleasure! Feel free to come back to Vilmerius if you ever have any other problems, alright?”</p><p>Eskel nodded, and Jaskier left with Ciri, satisfied that the witcher seemed happy. Afterwards, Ciri seemed hesitant to talk about her past with Eskel, so Jaskier avoided talking about it. Instead, they talked about Ciri’s classes and music tastes. Priscilla had apparently recorded Jaskier’s performance at the Kingfisher and helped Jaskier upload it afterwards, on a YouTube account simply named “Dandelion.” While it wasn’t the best quality, and it wouldn’t compare to a live performance regardless, it got the point across. Ciri’s first time watching it happened to be Jaskier’s as well, and Jaskier was pleased to see it had gotten over 100 views already. He was even more pleased when Ciri enthusiastically said she’d liked it, and would like to see his next performance. </p><p>And now that there was extra pressure from having to impress Ciri, Jaskier was determined to create another original song to perform. Perhaps not one directly inspired by Geralt, as Geralt was proving a bitch to hang out with.</p><p>Of course, that particular witcher seemed a bitch to hang out with regardless, so Jaskier doubted Geralt was avoiding him in particular. Which just meant Jaskier had to try harder. Beneath it all, Geralt seemed like he could use a friend.</p><p>So there Jaskier was one day, about three days again before the next open mic, banging on Geralt’s front door. The house was fairly easy to find, distinct as it was with its leaning into a nearby house. Even if Geralt wasn’t home currently, he’d said he had three other roommates, so maybe Jaskier could at least leave a message.</p><p>Eventually, his knocking was answered by a fairly annoyed, familiar face framed with white hair.</p><p>“Ah, Geralt! There you are,” Jaskier said, beaming. </p><p>“You’re insufferable,” Geralt growled.</p><p>“Now you say that. Come now, I’ve been nothing but nice to you,” Jaskier replied.</p><p>“You’ve been knocking on this damn door for five minutes.”</p><p>“It’s not like I could text you I was here, and I don’t wanna try throwing rocks since your dingy little window is so high up! I don’t even know if you have a phone, actually.”</p><p>“I do.”</p><p>“Oh, well, hand it over and we can exchange--”</p><p>“I don’t use it often.”</p><p>That gave Jaskier pause. Why would the witcher use it often? Every time he hunted, he’d risk breaking it. And it really seemed like Geralt didn’t have all that many friends, which made Jaskier’s heart break a little every time he thought about it. “Well, you keep it here, right? I can at least notify you whenever I’m here,” Jaskier reasoned.</p><p>Geralt rolled his eyes, opening the door to let Jaskier in despite his grumpy attitude. “You can give me your number, and I can text you later.”</p><p>“That’s the spirit!” Jaskier crowed, striding inside the dingy little house and heading straight for the stairs.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. Chapter 12</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Need to get this shit moving so bit of an exposition dump on top of stuff. Also that last chapter sucked and I’m aware it did I just don’t wanna put in the effort to fix it rn sorry<br/>Also. Don’t know if it’s incredibly obvious but. I relate to Geralt way more in terms of how I deal with shit, which isn’t great lmfao, but that’s personal; I bring it up cause I really don’t know if I’m doing characterization okay? I really hope I am. Writing from Jaskier’s POV is a real challenge for me, so I hope I’m not butchering it (haha ok)<br/>Soft tunes: “Postcards from far away” by Coldplay</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Nudity, but nothing explicit happens, really. Threats, gross stuff mentioned. Mostly bros being dudes. Sometimes you gotta bathe your bro, ya know?</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jaskier’s weekly performances at the Kingfisher were now accompanied by what was quickly becoming weekly friend’s night, as well. Jaskier usually went first during open mic, charming the audience with music that was mostly just original songs nowadays (which was a point of immense pride for Jaskier). Dandelion was quickly becoming a local celebrity, much to Valdo Marx’s chagrin. Jaskier tried not to rub it in the man’s face during work at the hospital, but backstage was fair game as far as he was concerned. After performances, Jaskier got over his continued disappointment that Geralt didn’t show by meeting up with Priscilla and Regis afterwards and just hanging out. Zoltan came around every so often, and Ciri did as well, with Jaskier buying her just one light drink so Ciri could try if she wanted. </p><p>By this point, they all knew about Geralt, as some of Jaskier’s originals were clearly about the man. As far as Jaskier knew, none of them had ever met Geralt, and Jaskier was starting to accept the fact that none of them ever would.</p><p>But Jaskier wasn’t going to push Geralt to. He’d learned much more about the differences witchers showed due to their mutations. Mutations themselves were completely new to Jaskier. He’d been horrified to hear that, from a young age, witchers were literally strapped to a special table and forced to absorb a multitude of various mutations in order to achieve the superhuman senses and strengths of a witcher. And then saddened to hear Geralt was particularly special, even among witchers; he’d taken the first round of mutations so well that they’d given Geralt extra mutations. The way Geralt described it, though, it was clear taking the mutations was excruciating and lethal, in most cases. It was why Geralt had a more gray pallor and had stark, white hair, unlike other witchers, who could pass as regular humans most of the time. It partly explained why Geralt kept thinking of himself as inhuman, too.</p><p>As much as Jaskier hated that Geralt had been forced to undergo such a traumatic thing at a young age, at least it kept him alive. Geralt was able to do more than the average witcher, if such a thing existed. He was faster, stronger, and able to sense more if he really focused.</p><p>Unfortunately, it also gave Geralt an excuse to not take care of himself. Besides wheedling Geralt into getting sleep, as the man seemed determined to tire himself into a walking zombie constantly, Jaskier made it a project to get some fucking meat on the man’s bones. Geralt’s metabolism was ridiculously high. Despite this, Jaskier had raided his fridge once to see if he had any food and found he had half a carton of eggs, a single cucumber, expired milk, and a nearly full jar of moldy olives sitting sadly on the shelves. The freezer was in worse condition, Jaskier opening it to find a couple empty ice trays only.</p><p>“Don’t you live with, like, three other people?!” Jaskier exclaimed once he found this out.</p><p>“They’re all also witchers,” Geralt mumbled.</p><p>“Okay, so they also need to eat a lot! So why in the hell do you have, like, no food at all?”</p><p>“Costs money.”</p><p>Jaskier didn’t fully understand it, as Geralt had a job consistently at least every week, and his roommates had to be picking up work every so often too. Either way, Jaskier made it his mission to start making food for Geralt every time he visited, and forced Geralt to eat it while he was visiting. He also bought Geralt a large water bottle he could hook on his belt.</p><p>Geralt could also keep the water bottle on the motorcycle the man was way too attached to. Jaskier found it strangely endearing how much care the man put into the motorcycle, so much so that Geralt had actually named it. Roach was a terrible name in Jaskier’s opinion, but it clearly made Geralt happy, so he didn’t say much about it. Geralt was so careful of his motorcycle that he refused to let Jaskier touch it. Jaskier, who owned a car he’d bought for about two thousand crowns, normally couldn’t have cared less. Now, though, it became another little personal goal to one day get Geralt to let him at least touch Roach. Just once. In the meantime, nothing got past Geralt’s witcher-y senses. The one time Jaskier had managed to sneak a touch, Geralt had immediately noticed and forced Jaskier to wait in Geralt’s room while Geralt fully cleaned his motorcycle. It was a little ridiculous, but Jaskier supposed the man needed a hobby.</p><p>Even travelling, Jaskier didn’t get to touch Roach. When he was able to, Jaskier accompanied Geralt on the jobs he took both inside and out of Novigrad. Roach had a dingy little sidecar Geralt attached for Jaskier, even though the motorcycle was clearly large enough for two people, for when jobs took them outside of Novigrad. It was fairly often. Jaskier took his lute on these travels, comforted in the fact that it required little maintenance outside of don't intentionally bash it up.</p><p>Not many jobs occurred south in Temeria, wartorn as it was, but those were the ones that garnered the most material. Jobs in Temeria most often included necrophages and wraiths, any monster that had to do with the dead, really. In dealing with any sort of wraith, especially, Geralt would have to investigate what was keeping the wraith here. Jaskier liked to think he helped Geralt in this part of his job, at least. As gross as it was, people were more willing to talk to Jaskier the friendly musician than Geralt the witcher, so they were able to find information a little faster than Geralt might’ve been able to on his own. If Geralt deemed the monster too dangerous for Jaskier to watch the fight, then Jaskier stayed behind in taverns, inns, and the occasional plaza, performing his songs and spreading his and Geralt’s fame. Jaskier noticed Geralt tried his best not to stay nights in Temeria if they could help it, and if they did it was the one area Geralt made a point to stay indoors despite the cost.</p><p>Aedirn, to the east, was also fairly wartorn, but the war was over in that place. After all, Redania hadn’t given the people there much of a chance. It was noticeably more diverse in terms of monsters, and Jaskier learned the most about the different monsters that existed in contracts taken by Aedirn. Due to the Redanian occupation and the general low morale amongst the natives there, Jaskier’s entertainment was most welcome in Aedirn, and he blossomed there as Dandelion. There he was mostly known as a bard, which amused Jaskier to no end, but was also a point of pride for the man. Geralt tended to get more contracts and paid better in Aedirn, and Jaskier liked to think that his own personal fame helped Geralt in that regard. If it did, it probably wasn’t as much as Jaskier would’ve liked; the only way to Aedirn, really, was to go by the Pontar river, as a mountain range separated the countries, so it was a difficult journey, and one Jaskier couldn't make all that much.</p><p>To the North, Redanians occasionally hired Geralt to do jobs for them. Seeing as they were likely going to try to conquer Novigrad, Geralt usually avoided bringing Jaskier along, as Jaskier could encounter some trouble trying to get back into the free city. The jobs in Redania were fairly rare as well; the warfront was in Temeria, so it was the one place aside from Novigrad Geralt got jobs that wasn’t horribly transformed by the war. This usually meant less monsters, and therefore less contracts. When one popped up, however, people offered top dollar to get it killed. Jaskier started insisting on coming along to Redanian contracts more and more once he realized how terribly the people who hired Geralt treated him. For the gods’ sake, they tried to cheat the witcher out of his money and even tried to kill the witcher on one memorable occasion after he’d saved their asses from a monster! As a result, Jaskier didn’t gain much traction in Redania, which was fine. No need to share his art with that awful country.</p><p>Geralt was also avoiding Redania for a very specific reason, however, which he refused to tell Jaskier about. The further north the job was, the more quiet and anxious Geralt got, and the more awful people were to Geralt. Once, in a tavern just a few miles north of Crinfrid, someone had yelled harshly at Geralt, calling him a butcher. They’d ended up thrown out, forced to camp outside. Geralt had refused to even talk to Jaskier outside of what was absolutely necessary, and that was conveyed mostly through grunts. On top of that, the man looked incredibly sad, so Jaskier left it be for the most part, simply strumming soft tunes on his lute. Every time afterwards whenever Jaskier brought it up, Geralt became distant and morose, so he just didn’t after a while.</p><p>Regardless, most contracts Jaskier accompanied Geralt on happened in Novigrad or Oxenfurt. There were a surprising amount of monsters Geralt dealt with in the cities, and it really did surprise Jaskier. He’d known the sewers were infested, but above ground he’d thought the city was mostly monster-free. It turned out they were just really good at hiding. Not good enough to hide from the witcher, of course, even in the constant bustling of the crowds among the many buildings. As luck would have it, songs based around contracts from Novigrad and Oxenfurt often got the best reception anyway, so it was alright, though Jaskier found himself enjoying the travel more and more. </p><p>And his songs just kept gaining traction. Jaskier had known he was talented and was plenty confident in his abilities, but it was still crazy to see the amount of viewers he had now on Youtube. He’d managed to keep the videos on that channel to just music, a mix of live recordings most often at the Kingfisher and actual professional recordings that Jaskier was ridiculously proud of. The most viewed video he had was that of his very first original, the Toss a Coin to your Witcher, professionally recorded. He’d managed to get a semi-decent caricature of Geralt for the visual aspect of the video, thanks to Priscilla’s help. Because she’d helped him out so much, she uploaded her own videos every so often of her own originals and singing as well as some duets between the two of them, and they’d renamed the channel “Dandelion and the Callonetta.” </p><p>In fact, they’d gained so much traction that both of them were becoming fairly famous bards in their own right. While Priscilla had already sort of been, and paying gigs was nothing new for her, it was for Jaskier. The largest paying gig Jaskier had ever gotten was at some sort of welcoming ceremony in Novigrad, on Temple Isle, and it paid like royalty. </p><p>Unfortunately for Jaskier, old habits died hard, and it just so happened he’d managed to piss off half of the serving staff and probably some nobles as well that would definitely be attending the event. After all, even before this whole singing thing started, Jaskier had been known to have a few affairs and one night stands per month at least. While Jaskier did his best to not let his fame take advantage of this aspect of his life, it certainly didn’t hinder it either. They’d all been consenting adults, and some of them hadn’t known about Dandelion. And he had to cover up the continued ache for a certain someone somehow, anyways.</p><p>But it was how Jaskier found himself asking that certain someone to cover his ass at this large event. How was he to know some of those he’d been with had been married or otherwise spoken for? They hadn’t exactly told him, and it was too late to take it back now. And while he could technically back out of the gig, the draw of attention was too great. That, and the draw of fine dining, and fine people, and the large pile of gold that awaited him.</p><p>Either way, there Jaskier was, helping the large, naked witcher settle into his dingy little bathtub. It was the night before the gig, so cutting it a little close, but Jaskier had a tendency to get caught up in whatever Geralt was doing.</p><p>“Geralt, dear, darling, love of my life, how do you always manage to get this disgusting?” Jaskier sighed, checking the temperature of the water belatedly. Geralt had continued to be unresponsive to Jaskier’s incessant flirting, but had never told the man off for it, so Jaskier just called Geralt whatever he wanted without filter. It was freeing, but did little for the ache in Jaskier’s heart he held for the man.</p><p>The witcher shifted until he was comfortable, his massive arms resting on the side of the tub and his head hanging out of it, hair matted and strewn over the side. His feet were hanging out the other side of the tub. “Contract in the sewers, not like I have a choice,” the man grumbled.</p><p>“You look like you rolled around in shit.”</p><p>“I did. Avoiding large groups of drowners will do that to you. And the water hag I was hunting fucking chucked shit at me.”</p><p>Jaskier just sighed, rifling through the soaps he’d brought to Geralt’s bathroom. The first time they’d done this sort of bath thing had been after a similar contract, with Geralt clearing out an area of the sewers for construction workers after normal guards proved incapable of doing so. The witcher had come back exhausted and drenched in sewage, and Jaskier insisted on helping the man back to his home to clean off. And then had been horrified to find Geralt had a bottle of dish soap for cleaning, and that was it. Since then, Jaskier had bought Geralt various soft-smelling soaps and sponges, trying his best to be accomodating of the witcher’s sensibilities. Though the man basically rolled in shit and/or monster guts at least three times a month, so who knew how sensitive he was to himself.</p><p>For now, Jaskier selected the lavender body wash and a sponge to use first. The hair was going to take the most time and was the dirtiest, so best start with getting as much off the witcher’s body as possible.</p><p>“Well, I’m glad you’re okay, not that I ever doubted you would be,” Jaskier replied.</p><p>“That so?”</p><p>“Like you haven’t fought drowners and water hags aplenty before. Anyways, switching gears, I have a favor to ask of you, my dear friend.”</p><p>Geralt just snorted.</p><p>Jaskier ignored him and continued, “You see, word of my singing and playing has travelled far and wide, and has reached the ears of nobles. And who am I to refuse nobles what they are willing to pay top gold for?”</p><p>“I don’t care if you sing about me. Not that it’s stopped you before.”</p><p>“Now now, Geralt, if you didn’t wish me to sing about you, I wouldn’t, of course. But that’s not what I’m asking.” When Geralt didn’t respond outside of closing his eyes and frowning, Jaskier just continued talking. “I would like you to accompany me to this event as my bodyguard.”</p><p>At that, Geralt cracked one eye open to stare curiously at Jaskier and hummed in question.</p><p>“See, dear witcher, besides myself wanting to treat you to something nice, as you so rightly deserve, I’m afraid I may have, uh. . . stuck my sausage in certain pantries I perhaps shouldn’t have, if you know what I mean,” Jaskier finished in a rush. “I will pay you for your service, of course.”</p><p>“You. . . who’d you fuck?” Geralt hesitatingly asked.</p><p>“It’s not that important. It’s a party, Geralt, think of the fine wine! Fine women!” Jaskier replied, looking over his shoulder to toss a bit of bath salt into the tub. </p><p>The witcher was now glaring straight at Jaskier, not bothering to look away as the salt hit the tub and bounced off his face. “It’s important if you feel your life is threatened.”</p><p>Jaskier sighed, looking back away, whipping a hand towel over his shoulder, and grabbing the soaps he wanted to use. “I doubt any of them would kill me. Cause me bodily harm, however. . .”</p><p>“Them? How many people did you piss off?”</p><p>Jaskier stopped in his tracks, attempting to actually do a full count for a second. Eventually, he gave up and shrugged. “Too many. One loses track after a while. And the guest list is expansive, I’m unsure of exactly how many people will be attending, but anyone who was invited will absolutely show up. As the saying goes, better safe than sorry.”</p><p>“I’m not gonna get involved just because you. . . ‘stuck your sausage in the wrong pantry,’” Geralt grumbled.</p><p>“But you get involved, all the time,” Jaskier argued. “I’ve stuck around with you long enough to have noticed that. And besides, don’t you want to help out your bestest friend in the world?”</p><p>“We’re not friends.”</p><p>Jaskier had gotten that response before, and while it hurt, he’d also learned it was Geralt’s default response, as sad as that was. Geralt was an incredibly reserved man, and while he insisted he didn’t feel as much emotion as a regular human, Jaskier knew it was not the case. If anything, the witcher felt more. He felt so much he tried to hide it. Jaskier didn’t know why that was the case, aside from the obvious “wanting to appear tough,” but didn’t want to push Geralt on it too much. Especially not now. He’d also learned that, if Geralt was using that as an excuse, he would eventually agree to Jaskier. </p><p>“Oh, so you just let anyone stitch up your wounds? Accompany you on jobs? Strangers rub chamomile oil on your lovely bottom recently?” Jaskier asked, finally turning to face the witcher with supplies in hand.</p><p>Geralt scowled. “That was one time. Moment of weakness.”</p><p>It was true, and Jaskier did feel a little bad about taking advantage of Geralt in such a weakened state. The potions Geralt took, while helpful in the heat of battle, were overall toxic to the poor man and wreaked havoc on his body. After a particularly bad day once, Jaskier had managed to convince Geralt to let him massage the witcher’s overtaxed muscles. The combination of White Rafford’s, Thunderbolt, and Tawny Owl warring in Geralt’s body made it so Jaskier was basically carrying the witcher up the stairs, his muscles refusing to do as he asked, they were so tense. And while the treatment had clearly helped Geralt deal with working through the toxicity, the man was also averse to being touched. While he was fairly comfortable with Jaskier doing so at this point, Geralt had never initiated, and he’d seemed embarrassed after the butt touching incident.</p><p>That, and Jaskier had an ulterior motive which made him feel guilty about the whole thing.</p><p>Either way, his point stood. “Yes, and you would not have let anyone else do it. Honestly, Geralt, where would you be without me?”</p><p>“I don’t need you,” Geralt grumbled.</p><p>Jaskier raised an eyebrow, setting the soaps and sponge on the floor next to the tub before crouching over it to stare Geralt down.</p><p>“And yet, here we are,” he muttered.</p><p>Geralt just glared back, but eventually nodded once, conceding defeat. “I’d still like to know who’s gonna try and chop your dick off,” he mumbled.</p><p>“Well, hopefully it won’t come to that,” Jaskier vaguely replied, heart pounding. He’d never spoken to Geralt like that, and tried his best to play it off. It was too intimate, too vulnerable. Jaskier stood so fast he felt lightheaded, and tried his best to play off the moment by walking around and sitting on the stool behind Geralt. That had come out of nowhere, and weirdly enough, Geralt didn’t seem all that fazed by it while Jaskier was reeling. Of course, perhaps Geralt was and Jaskier just couldn’t tell, but that was unlikely. Anyone who bothered to look could usually tell what Geralt was really feeling.</p><p>“Then why do you want a bodyguard?” Geralt asked.</p><p>“It might come to that. Besides, I’d like to finish off my performance with all my fingers and face intact, leaves a better impact on my audience.” Jaskier did his best again to quickly shake off the moment and stuck on a somewhat convincing smile, not that Geralt could see it. He lathered up the sponge and braced Geralt’s head on a towel on his lap, like usual, to start cleaning Geralt’s shoulders and arms. </p><p>Jaskier knew in the back of his mind that bathing your friend is not something you normally do. Ever since he’d done it that one time, though, Geralt had done everything but outright ask Jaskier to help clean him up whenever it was necessary. As much as Geralt was unable to say no to Jaskier, Jaskier was similarly unable to say no to Geralt. It’s just that Geralt asked for so little, and Jaskier couldn’t help it; the witcher was treated so badly normally, anyway. Somebody had to treat him well, it might as well be Jaskier.</p><p>And it helped Jaskier pretend Geralt wasn’t completely uninterested.</p><p>“Where’d you put my clothes?” Geralt grunted after a bit.</p><p>“I put them in the washing machine downstairs,” Jaskier muttered into Geralt’s ear, propping the witcher up on his chest to reach down across Geralt’s front to scrub some muck off of Geralt’s abdomen. While still ridiculously ripped, Jaskier was proud it didn’t feel like running a sponge across a washboard anymore. Geralt’s head rested against Jaskier’s shoulder, and he felt the man’s slow breathing across his cheek.</p><p>Geralt sighed through his nose, his eyes closed. Privately, Jaskier was ridiculously happy at how open Geralt was around him after only months. It felt like some sort of achievement, anyhow. “And my armor?” the witcher mumbled. Jaskier felt the rumble of his voice against his own chest.</p><p>“Laying on some rags in your bedroom, draining. I’ll help you clean them off later, okay, dear?”</p><p>Geralt just hummed in response, relaxing further into Jaskier’s touch. Jaskier knew the witcher could probably tell with his eyes closed, but maybe he was too distracted to notice Jaskier’s heart beating itself into a mushy puddle. At least he was no longer flustered by the sight of a completely naked witcher. Injuries, camping outside, and moments like this piled up to the point where Jaskier was basically immune to the sight of the witcher’s bare ass and penis now. Of course, that meant Jaskier could now unabashedly appreciate what was clearly the gods’ most generous gift to mankind without getting aroused himself. Which was the true gift because Geralt could one hundred percent tell every time Jaskier got aroused. Jaskier knew this because of one memorable moment when he’d rubbed one out twenty meters away from camp, came back, and Geralt told Jaskier exactly how he’d done it with a disgusted look on his face.</p><p>Jaskier refrained from shuddering at that particular memory and tapped Geralt’s shoulder lightly, indicating to the witcher he should stop leaning on him now. “Dunk,” Jaskier ordered.</p><p>Geralt groaned, sat up, and did as Jaskier said, making sure most of his gross hair flopped into the soapy water before coming back up. Meanwhile, Jaskier filled a nearby bucket with clean water from the sink.</p><p>Although Geralt had a ridiculously wonderful body, scars and pale body hair included, Jaskier’s favorite part of the process was always washing the man’s hair. Since Jaskier had started actually taking care of it -- he couldn’t believe the man had been using fucking dish soap on it before -- Geralt’s hair proved to be a wonderful, soft thing that shone with color in the sun. Jaskier delighted in the actual cleaning process, getting all of the gook out, and then the simple combing through with his fingers, then an actual comb. Though he hadn’t had much practice besides his own regarding hair care, he’d picked up some tips from Priscilla and his hair stylist. No hair was as thin as Geralt’s was, but the products and care they’d suggested did wonders. It was also one of the few times he got to touch the man's hair.</p><p>Jaskier knew Geralt appreciated the treatment, too. He’d never admit it, just like he never admitted he liked being taken care of in the bath. But Geralt never protested it now like he used to, so Jaskier figured he must be doing something right.</p><p>As Jaskier was combing through knots, carefully with his fingers, he realized Geralt was staring at him from his lap. He tried his best not to blush and stayed focused on Geralt’s hair.</p><p>“Am I hurting you, honey?” Jaskier softly asked, gently tugging at a stubborn knot.</p><p>“Hmm. No,” Geralt eventually responded. “I was thinking about that party you’ve invited me to. As your bodyguard.”</p><p>“Change your mind?”</p><p>Geralt frowned, his brow furrowing in that incredibly endearing way of his. “No. I just don’t have anything to wear to it.”</p><p>Jaskier froze momentarily in Geralt’s hair. He hadn’t thought about that. Continuing the task at hand, he asked, “Can’t you borrow clothes from your roommates?”</p><p>Geralt snorted. “If they have anything, it’ll have been fashionable last century. And I know you care about that.”</p><p>“Aw, Geralt, you do care!” Jaskier had to say it sarcastically lest it actually sound sincere.</p><p>The witcher rolled his eyes. “I’d like to show up in armor, but I doubt they’d let me in.”</p><p>Jaskier sighed. “You’re right. Now, darling, I have an idea, and I will pay for it.” He figured he’d lead with that since Geralt was constantly tight on coin. “On top of paying you for bodyguarding me at this event, we’ll go clothes shopping tomorrow and I’ll buy you some nice clothes. How does that sound?” He met Geralt’s eyes, which were still unwaveringly staring at him. </p><p>Geralt looked away finally, sinking into the soapy water a little deeper. Jaskier held the man’s hair, keeping it out of the tub, and waited for Geralt to agree. A few seconds later, and from under the water, Jaskier heard the man grumble a vague “okay.”</p><p>“Oh, wonderful, I’ll see you tomorrow morning, then! Best get to the tailor’s somewhat early, in case they need to make adjustments or whatnot. Now, out of the tub,” Jaskier ordered, quickly combing the man’s hair. Any remaining knots quickly fell apart, leaving a glistening sheet of soft, white hair that Jaskier wanted to run his hands through again. But he was out of excuses now, and stood while Geralt shifted in the tub to get up. He walked out of the room as Geralt dried off and got changed, and started cleaning the man’s armor. He knew he’d be able to wheedle at least a summary of a decent story out of Geralt over armor cleaning, and then he could head home.</p><p>The next day, Jaskier texted Geralt that he was at the front door at eleven AM sharp, then watched the witcher approach from the garage he’d clearly been taking care of Roach in.</p><p>“Eleven in the morning is early to you?” Geralt grunted.</p><p>“Good morning to you, too,” Jaskier responded, putting his phone in his pocket and walking up to hug Geralt. Every time he did so, Geralt got slightly less stiff, thought he hadn’t started to hug back yet. The first time Jaskier had hugged the man as greeting, he’d been delighted to find the witcher wouldn’t punch him in the face for it, though he’d been stiff as a cement wall.</p><p>Clothes shopping was fun. Usually whenever Geralt and Jaskier hung out, it’d always been during a contract, and Geralt’s life was always on the line, usually alongside several other people’s. This was one of the rare times they just got to have fun.</p><p>Well, Jaskier was having fun. He hoped Geralt was, too, underneath all the grumbling that “I look ridiculous like this” and “this is a stupid idea” and Jaskier’s personal favorite, “I can’t fucking move in this shit without tearing it apart at the seams.” When Geralt had said that last one, Jaskier had asked the witcher to flex, which earned him possibly the coldest glare Jaskier had ever gotten from a stranger, the tailor. </p><p>Jaskier stopped having fun once the party started. </p><p>In retrospect, Jaskier should’ve known the whole thing would end in disaster as soon as they walked in the door. Geralt had expressed to Jaskier beforehand that, although he had been hired to literally sing songs about Geralt, he wanted to remain lowkey. Jaskier shrugged in reply. Without his two swords and armor, and well groomed courtesy of Jaskier, Geralt looked like an unusual foreigner if you didn’t focus on his face too long. Other people at the party had white hair too, though of course it wasn’t nearly as vibrant as Geralt’s was, but it should be enough for the man to blend in if he stuck to the sides.</p><p>Unfortunately, that plan was blown the second Geralt entered the hall with Jaskier.</p><p>The party was to celebrate the arrival of a Nilfgaardian ambassador. Jaskier hadn’t thought it’d be a problem, as witchers were famous for being neutral in most world affairs, and Geralt had given no indication otherwise. They’d struggled to cross borders on both sides just as much as anyone neutral would. Despite this, a clearly high-ranking Nilfgaardian man immediately spotted Geralt almost from across the room and smiled widely.</p><p>“Geralt of Rivia! It’s been so long since I’ve seen you!” the man shouted, loud and clear across the room. Everyone immediately turned to stare at Geralt.</p><p>Jaskier cringed inwardly and smiled to the crowd, trying to hide Geralt’s bulk behind himself to no avail. Meanwhile, he was probably the only person in the room to hear Geralt curse to himself under his breath.</p><p>Luckily, the crowd quickly turned back to each other, and the Nilfgaardian man approached Geralt so he wouldn’t be shouting from the other side of the room.</p><p>“I’m sorry, Geralt, I didn’t know--” Jaskier started, but was interrupted by that fucking Nilfgaardian.</p><p>“Apologies, witcher, I forgot you don’t greatly enjoy attention,” he said. Jaskier immediately hated his nasally voice, and up close, the Nilfgaardian looked incredibly greasy and pale, like someone had infused his skin with lard.</p><p>“General Voorhis. Long way from the warfront,” Geralt grunted in reply. Despite the familiarity, Jaskier could tell Geralt didn’t like this Nilfgaardian either.</p><p>“Our ambassador wanted an escort. I decided to lead the detail myself, as I haven’t visited Novigrad in recent memory. Of course, the city could never compare to--”</p><p>“Geralt, who is this?” Jaskier interrupted. It was clear this guy liked talking more than Jaskier did, and possibly liked the sound of his own voice even more, which was an accomplishment. Plus, he could start to feel annoyance radiate off of Geralt in waves.</p><p>“Ah. Excuse me. I am General Morvran Voorhis of the Nilfgaardian grand army, commander of the Alba division.” The man’s face became impossibly more stuck up and smug. “And you are?”</p><p>“Dandelion.”</p><p>“Oh, tonight’s entertainment.”</p><p>“So you have heard of me! What an honor,” Jaskier enthused, hoping as little sarcasm as possible slipped into his voice. As much as he’d like to punch this guy in the face, it was clear he was exactly who he said he was. It wouldn’t be a good idea to make him angry.</p><p>Luckily, he also seemed fairly dense. “Yes, I suppose it is,” he responded. “I so rarely care about artists outside of Nilfgaard, unrefined and boorish as you are.”</p><p>“I hope I manage to impress tonight,” Jaskier quickly replied. Grabbing Geralt’s arm, he started to lead the witcher off, making a quick getaway from the snobby Nilfgaardian. “Well, gotta rehearse! Can’t be anything but perfect, you know, haha!”</p><p>After that, Geralt managed to avoid Voorhis and most of the partygoers all on his own, sticking to the periphery and skulking. It helped that the audience was incredibly receptive to Jaskier’s performance, clapping after every song, singing and stomping along, and requesting various songs for an encore. A full hour passed before Jaskier was able to take a break, and it was only because dinner was being served.</p><p>Dinner was wonderful, although Geralt didn’t sit anywhere near Jaskier for the duration of it. That was okay; Jaskier found himself surrounded by plenty of beautiful company, which helped him keep his mind off of his unrequited feelings for the witcher and the awkward situation at the very beginning of the party. He was mindful not to drink too much alcohol, as tasteful as the wine was. He still had to supply dance music along with the band, though luckily he wouldn’t be singing. </p><p>It wasn’t until after dinner that trouble again reared its ugly head. His fear of being confronted by cuckolded nobles had proven true, but Jaskier couldn’t see Geralt anywhere close, and he stumbled backwards and almost smacked his head against the wall behind him as a furious noble approached him, previously concealed knife in hand.</p><p>“You’re that lad, aren’t you? I’d recognize your snivelly ass anywhere, after seeing it escape outta my wife’s window!”</p><p>Jaskier chuckled nervously, hands hesitantly raising. “I’m afraid you have me mistaken--”</p><p>“I’m not fucking mistaken! Take your fucking pants off!”</p><p>Jaskier’s eyes widened, mind racing. “Well, that’s forward. At least buy me dinner first--”</p><p>He yelped as the lord pointed the knife under his chin, and tried not to gag at the man’s unbelievably bad breath as he leaned in and snarled, “I’m not fucking joking, whore. Drop those cheap pants so I can be sure it was your pimply arse I saw, before I cut your dick off.”</p><p>Jaskier babbled nonsense briefly, trying desperately to find a way to talk himself out of this. People were starting to stare.</p><p>And then a shadow dropped over them both, and Jaskier breathed out in relief. “Ah, Geralt. Maybe you can explain to this man why he’s wrong.”</p><p>“Shut it, you little shit,” the noble growled, sticking the blade up further under Jaskier’s chin. Jaskier whined, his neck starting to cramp at the awkward angle.</p><p>He heard Geralt sigh. “I’m terribly sorry, this happens all the time. See, while Dandelion does look like a cheat and a whore, I’m afraid it’s impossible for him to be either, ever since the accident,” Geralt morosely said. He ignored Jaskier’s glare and nodded seriously at the noble.</p><p>The noble, at least, seemed to believe Geralt. “Oh. I was unaware of this. . . what accident?” The blade slowly started to lower, and Jaskier slowly started to breathe easier.</p><p>“It’s a secret, so don’t tell anyone else, but. . . Dandelion was kicked in the balls by an ox as a young lad. The whole apparatus was damaged beyond repair, and thus, Dandelion has never had sex in his life. It’s a true tragedy,” Geralt solemnly answered. Jaskier knew only he could really see the humor in Geralt’s amber cat eyes, the bastard. He couldn’t believe the witcher had a real sense of humor after all that time they’d known each other, and it only appeared at the expense of Jaskier. The witcher was having fun. </p><p>He was gonna kill Geralt and then himself.</p><p>To Geralt’s credit, though, the lie worked wonders. The noble quickly removed his knife and hid it away again, apologizing profusely to Jaskier. “Oh, you poor man. Please, take this money and. . . well, perhaps you’ll find pleasure in something,” he said, handing Jaskier a few crowns and giving him a deeply pitying look before bustling away.</p><p>Jaskier nodded his thanks, silently fuming, and waited for the noble to be well out of earshot before turning to Geralt. “And just what the hell was that?”</p><p>“You never said how I should protect you,” Geralt replied.</p><p>“Oh, so you decide to do it by spewing lies and ruining my courtly reputation?” Jaskier spat. “Real mature, Geralt.”</p><p>“Get a different body guard, then. I’m not gonna fistfight an armed noble in the middle of a crowd of nobles. And it’s not like I announced your unfortunate condition in front of everyone.”</p><p>“You basically did, Geralt! You saying it’s a secret just guarantees he’s gonna tell everyone else here!” Jaskier almost yelled, pocketing the coin before jabbing a finger in Geralt’s direction. He couldn’t believe the witcher had the gall to smile back.</p><p>“Not much I can do about that. Besides, it worked. Your horribly deformed cock and balls are safe another night.” Geralt’s smile widened as he said that, and Jaskier felt any anger immediately dissipate. Geralt had a beautiful smile, and while it came at Jaskier’s expense, it was the widest smile he’d seen on the witcher to date.</p><p>“You know my equipment isn’t horribly deformed, shut up. No need to keep talking about it,” Jaskier sullenly muttered, trying his hardest not to smile back. He also hated to admit the witcher was right; it wasn’t a good idea to fistfight an armed noble. And if any other lords or ladies had been going to attempt a similar violence, they’d be turned off of him now.</p><p>“Of course I know,” Geralt replied quietly before turning away and disappearing back into the periphery of the crowd. Jaskier decided not to think too deeply into what Geralt said, and instead went to help tune the band for the dancing.</p><p>While Jaskier greatly enjoyed performing, and also the coin and added fame waiting for him at the end of the whole affair, he also regretted the fact that he wouldn’t be able to dance. It had been the one aspect of courtly life he’d really missed, and as charming as many peasant dances could be, most of the ones that stuck around Novigrad consisted mostly of talentless bouncing. There was no coordination, no elegance, barely any rhythm, and while it was freeing, it also got boring really quickly. Jaskier watched enviously as groups of people spun around the dance floor. He was also just a little pissed that Geralt was not dancing; instead, he was just standing against the wall like he had been for most of the party now, sipping at a glass of wine and watching. Jaskier loved playing his lute, he really did. But he desperately wished he could be out on the floor, inviting Geralt to dance. The witcher had been alive for over a century; he had to know some good dances. While Jaskier was stuck here, though, providing music, he’d hoped someone would ask Geralt to dance instead of leaving him excluded. </p><p>Maybe some other time. Jaskier was quickly getting distracted by several people dancing near the stage, clearly trying to get his attention despite the rumor concerning his junk Jaskier was sure was currently circulating. Perhaps they were trying to get his attention to see if the rumor was true. Regardless, Jaskier would be sure to show whichever person got him in their bed a truly wonderful time. And he’d just have to hope, once again, that they weren’t spoken for.</p><p>Of course the party couldn’t end nicely. An argument broke out -- over what, Jaskier wasn’t sure -- and Geralt was involved. Jaskier hated being right sometimes; why did Geralt always have to get involved in everything? Before Jaskier could think of some witty answer to his own question, the fight quickly escalated, and hidden weapons were pulled before anything could be resolved. Everyone scattered, Jaskier managing to corner his employer and get most of the coin he’d been promised before being pulled out of the hall by an angry witcher. Jaskier dragged a handsome lad after him, determined the entire night wouldn’t be a complete loss.</p><p>Geralt just glared as Jaskier defended himself, saying there was no possible way he could’ve known firstly about Morvran Voorhis, and secondly about the stupid fight, which had apparently started when Geralt failed to take sides about whether griffins had venom or not. After hearing Jaskier out, he just sighed deeply and turned to leave.</p><p>“Don’t grope for trout in any peculiar rivers before dawn. And try not to get killed,” the witcher grumbled as a goodbye. He turned his glare at the noble Jaskier’d taken with him, who hid behind Jaskier in an attempt to avoid the witcher.</p><p>“I always try not to get killed, my friend. See you around!” Jaskier yelled after the witcher as he walked the opposite way. It wouldn’t be until way late in the night, the handsome noble snoring loudly next to Jaskier, that he would remember he’d forgotten to pay Geralt for being his bodyguard.</p>
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<a name="section0013"><h2>13. Chapter 13</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Before y’all get the wrong impression I fucking love Lambert. Actually I love all my wolfy witchers so goddamn much, and </p><p>MAJOR SPOILERS FOR THE GAME: *I hate that I’m gonna have to merc one of them later. So much. I fucking hate it. Regarding other certain witchers being alive, though, I make the hecking rules* SPOILERS OVER</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Perhaps it was because Jaskier patched up Geralt so much outside of his job that the witcher never presented to the ER. </p><p>However, plenty of other witchers came in and out of Vilmerius now. The ones Jaskier saw most often were ones he was starting to suspect were Geralt’s roommates, as he’d managed to get pretty good looks at their necklaces and they looked the same as Geralt’s. </p><p>Eskel was one of those witchers, and probably the one who came in most often. Jaskier doubted it was because the witcher was less skilled than other witchers; he had a feeling the witcher just liked not having new scars anymore. The last time Eskel had visited, Jaskier prescribed him a slightly magical ointment to help with his facial scar, as the witcher had been itching at it more and more recently. He also apparently requested to see Jaskier every time he visited, which was nice. Jaskier sort of wished he could meet the witcher outside of the hospital; he felt they’d be good friends. And Jaskier was curious as to how exactly Eskel was related to Ciri, which he couldn’t ask about during work.</p><p>Lambert had been a surprise. Jaskier’s only memory of the man had been of him fighting EMS as they’d wheeled him in after Geralt. Jaskier first saw Lambert during another overnight, but this time at four in the morning, and it appeared the witcher had come of his own free will. The nurses at triage had assigned him to trauma bay for “lacerations to R buttock,” and listed his name on the board as “Lambert, Danjamin.” Jaskier didn’t like Lambert as much. The man was unbelievably prickly on top of a layer of bitterness Jaskier knew nothing about, and it felt like the witcher was trying to find the end of Jaskier’s patience every time they met in the ER. </p><p>Unfortunately for Lambert, Jaskier was determined to have endless patience for the man as he was clearly close to Geralt, he learned Eskel had recommended Vilmerius to Lambert, and Lambert probably got treated like dogshit normally. After those first visits, Lambert’s barbs at Jaskier became more playful than hurtful, and he started acting better during his visits, to the point of actually listening when Jaskier asked him to do something the first time. If Jaskier didn’t know any better, he’d say Lambert was younger, no older than 20 years old. Jaskier did know better, though, and while Lambert was a jackass, he harbored a special kind of love and respect for the witcher, and was sure to pick him up when able to.</p><p>Jaskier had initially been unsure what to think of Vesemir. That particular witcher was the last witcher Jaskier suspected was one of Geralt’s roommates, and also the one that visited the least often. If it wasn’t for his witcher physiology and cat-like amber eyes, just like the others, Jaskier wouldn’t have believed Vesemir was anything but an old man. The witcher had gray hair, but it looked natural, unlike Geralt’s snow-white hair. He also had wrinkles, deep crow’s feet appearing when the man smiled and creasing his forehead. Jaskier wouldn’t say the man was overweight, Eskel and Geralt weighed more than Vesemir, but he had more body fat than any witcher Jaskier had met. </p><p>It really felt like Vesemir was a mature mixture of all three other wolf witchers, in terms of personality. He was polite, but reserved, and would insult you if he felt you deserved it, or to test you. Vesemir felt like a cool uncle, and when treating the gray wolf, Jaskier had to keep reminding himself that he was working and not just hanging out. The witcher had a tendency to talk during treatment, and told little stories while Jaskier stitched up whatever laceration he’d come in with. While normally patients that talked a lot irked Jaskier, he found he didn’t mind it much with Vesemir. The man was witty, and the stories were often filled with little tidbits of witcher history, physiology, and culture. Jaskier took care to assign his name to Vesemir whenever it appeared on the board.</p><p>Very rarely, other witchers than Eskel, Lambert, and Vesemir started popping up at Vilmerius, and they were all from different schools. Jaskier supposed the amulets were different enough to tell. </p><p>School of the cat was most common. Aiden was the only witcher outside the school of the wolf to make a repeat visit. He was polite enough, though it was in a way that you could tell he was only being polite in order to leave faster. That was fine by Jaskier. Another witcher from the cat school was a young-looking, petulant fellow named Gaetan. He talked a lot, but unlike Vesemir, he was clearly bitter and most often complained about everything and anything. Jaskier treated him well, but wasn’t sad to see him go, and hadn’t seen the man again.</p><p>And then it was winter.</p><p>Winter had never been Jaskier’s favorite time of the year, and this year’s was made worse by the fact that apparently witchers had a whole fucking castle as a winter getaway. At least, school of the wolf witchers did.</p><p>“To be honest, I’ll be the last of my school to travel there,” Geralt admitted. “Everyone’s left already.”</p><p>“And you just neglected to mention you have a fucking fortress?”</p><p>“Kaer Morhen’s been deteriorating for decades, I’d call it a ruin.”</p><p>“It’s together enough to stay there over the winter, apparently.”</p><p>“Anything’s better than this dump in Novigrad. I’m not entirely sure why you’re angry about this,” Geralt admitted.</p><p>Jaskier sighed, glancing around Geralt’s room for an excuse. If he’d thought it was empty before, it was barren now. Everything that was Geralt’s had been cleared out and loaded onto Roach’s tiny little trailer. All that remained in the room, besides the two men, was the bed frame with a thin, dirty mattress on top. It was lightly snowing outside, and the room glowed white with reflected light. Geralt was right. Realistically he had no reason to be angry. In fact, he should've expected this, as Eskel had told him a similar thing during that first visit, all that time ago.</p><p>“I. . . I know. I apologize, Geralt. I’m just. . . you’re my friend, of course, I’ll be sad you’re gone,” Jaskier eventually replied, deflating a bit. Damn Geralt and his rational thinking and buried emotions. “And, well, I’ll be hard-pressed for song material.”</p><p>Geralt smiled, and despite everything, it made Jaskier feel better. “I’m sure you’ll manage until I’m back.”</p><p>“You’ll be back in Novigrad?”</p><p>“Yeah, after the snow thaws enough for us to leave Kaer Morhen again.”</p><p>“And I can see you then?” Jaskier asked, way too much hope in his voice.</p><p>Geralt snorted. “Like I could stop you. Of course I’ll see you then.”</p><p>“Yeah, you will,” Jaskier grinned, unable to hide all of his sudden giddiness. Geralt would be back. Of course he would be back. Jaskier wondered if Geralt could hear his heart exploding.</p><p>After Geralt left, Jaskier just had to hope the witcher would keep his word, selfish as it was for Jaskier to hope for that. Winter brought with it change, and progress in the war; Temeria was lost to Nilfgaard, who had managed to push through and conquer the country for its empire before the winter storms could really start to kick in. Refugees started to pour into Novigrad’s overwhelmed gates, as Novigrad was the closest free area left for Temerians attempting to escape Nilfgaard. </p><p>With the increase in refugees, a religious order essentially took control of Novigrad. It was called the church of the Eternal Flame, and Jaskier learned quickly to hate it even more than he had previously. However, he learned just as quickly that he could not speak out against it now. The religious order was well armed, and enforced their rule cruelly whenever and however they could, and had existed for a long time before they’d risen to power; their roots ran deep. While refugees had been their initial target, it quickly changed to anyone who practiced magic, and then to anyone who wasn’t human, and then to anyone who dared to speak out against them quicker than Jaskier could write a song about them.</p><p>Novigrad was plunged into fear as people burned on pyres in Hierarch square, and Jaskier hated it. He kept singing his songs as Dandelion, trying to keep up morale, but of course the Eternal Flame didn’t like witchers, either. They allowed Dandelion to keep singing and playing, but made it clear they didn’t like the subject material.</p><p>As most of Vilmerius’s staff consisted of the old lodge of sorceresses taking refuge, Vilmerius lost half its staff in about a day. Yen was about the only one brave enough to stay, which Jaskier knew was hard for Yen. She didn’t walk outside the hospital, teleporting in and out from wherever she lived using her portals. Strangely enough, it was how Jaskier found out Ciri, the scribe, was actually living with Yennefer. While Ciri was still hesitant to share much about herself, she did reveal that Yennefer was like a mom to her, and that her biological mother had died a long time ago. Jaskier wondered if that meant Yennefer was married and a stepmom, both of which were very strange concepts for Jaskier to wrap his head around. It didn’t really matter, as he wasn’t brave enough to ask.</p><p>Their stock of magical medications and tools also started running in short supply, as Yen could only create so much on her own. On top of this, they were flooded with patients constantly as the Eternal Flame continued their assault on the city. Vilmerius couldn’t be touched by them due to international protections, luckily, but it was also the only hospital left that would treat anyone who walked in the doors. That winter was the busiest Jaskier had had in his life thus far, and he was forced to leave most of the music-making stuff to Priscilla.</p><p>Novigrad quickly became a target for Redania and Nilfgaard, both of which were now knocking on Novigrad’s door. Jaskier knew neither country was stupid enough to attack Novigrad directly. Besides being well defended with its walls and strong navy, Novigrad was a storehouse of supplies and gold. If either country decided to lay siege, those resources would be depleted, and Novigrad would be little more than another bit of land that country would acquire. It created a weird situation where both sides entered a bidding war with the powers of Novigrad instead. </p><p>In this way, the Eternal Flame was kept constantly well armed, and despite being a “volunteer force” and “non-profit,” the church had an incredible amount of fanatics and resources.</p><p>Things shifted in Novigrad’s criminal underworld, too. Though Jaskier, thankfully, was not involved in that scene, the criminal underworld held a huge amount of Novigrad’s wealth and power, and it was split up among the various crime lords. Redania and Nilfgaard knew this, and thus were attempting to win over those crime lords through various means.</p><p>In an incredible turn of events, it was in this crime lord bidding war that Jaskier found himself suddenly in possession of a brothel, of all things.</p><p>It turned out one of those influential crime lords was a huge fan of Dandelion. Alonso Wiley, though his lackeys and competitors knew the man as “Whoreson,” had been a connoisseur of Novigrad’s art and culture, apparently. As quickly as Dandelion rose to fame, Whoreson had just as quickly become a huge fan -- so much so the man had bequeathed Dandelion an entire brothel, the “Rosemary and Thyme,” for Dandelion to do with as he pleased in his will. This brothel was one of the most successful brothels in the city, the only brothel for blocks where it was situated, and the only one near any of the gates in the city. And it just so happened that during this bidding war, Alonso Wiley was murdered by his own son, who was known now as Whoreson Jr.</p><p>Jaskier learned of this as the deed for the Rosemary and Thyme was passed into his disbelieving hands by a bored, expensive-looking lawyer, who promptly left after the news and deed had been delivered.</p><p>While his friends found the whole thing hilarious, Jaskier really had no idea what the hell he was meant to do with an entire brothel. He had no fucking idea how to run a business, let alone a sex worker business, it was hard work and Jaskier didn’t know where to start on handling all of it. Of course, Zoltan had plenty of ideas. Plenty of rooms upstairs, could be a classy inn; large lobby downstairs, could be converted to a bar, or a stage, or both, it was really roomy; display stands outside could be an outdoor theater, or outdoor bar. Or they could keep it as a brothel. Or it could be made into another hospital, or Jaskier could just convert it into a home, or a personal studio. When Jaskier had finally perused the property with his friends, though, he saw what Zoltan was talking about. That stage could be for performances. . . that area could be an awesome bar. . . the rooms upstairs would make for a good inn, with plenty of cleaning. . .</p><p>The problem was all of that would cost money to get going. Money wasn’t really a problem for Jaskier, but that was just so he could live comfortably in his little apartment. Whoreson Jr. had done everything he could to clear out pretty much everything from the brothel before it’d been turned over to Jaskier, so it was barren and dirty, and would need a lot of work before it could be anything. It would also need to be furnished, and Jaskier would have to look into getting things for the bar, hiring workers, getting utilities started, and whatever legal issues he’d have to deal with.</p><p>For now, Jaskier just made sure the doors and windows were locked whenever he and his friends weren’t in there.</p><p>Things got a little dicey as Regis was kicked out of the Kingfisher halfway through wintertime. Jaskier was glad the vampire decided to come to him and the others for help instead of just going to live in the sewers again. While it wasn’t a problem for Regis to avoid the church, he needed somewhere to keep his stuff. Zoltan and Jaskier each kept half of Regis’s stuff in their own apartments as a result, and since Regis didn’t need a key to get into anywhere, the vampire often just showed up in Jaskier’s apartment at any time of the day without warning.</p><p>On top of everything, Jaskier struggled with his own fucking feelings the entire winter. While Geralt seemed open to being friends now, being more just didn’t seem like an option. It wasn’t that the witcher wasn’t interested in men; in fact, the witcher seemed to care little about gender at all. He slept with whoever was willing, though it was most often paid for. Geralt had just never shown that interest in Jaskier himself, and Jaskier was having trouble coming to terms with that.</p><p>How he dealt with it probably wasn’t great.</p><p>However, the countess had been willing, and she was beautiful, and served plenty well as a temporary muse until Geralt was back in the spring. Jaskier ended up staying at her place about half the time during that winter, loving her as best he could. He ignored the irony of repressing his own feelings for the most repressed person he’d ever met.</p><p>The Countess De Stael was kind, and refined, and unbelievably perceptive. She ruled over her estate with a firm hand, personally, and was a philanthropist on top of that. Her workers were well fed and happy, and her home was large and well-kept. And Jaskier did love her, and was glad that she let him stay and loved him back. The fact that she was incredible in bed and seemed to enjoy his songs was a wonderful bonus. </p><p>They grew closer as the winter progressed, too, and Jaskier fell deeper in love. The Countess, during her downtime, was surprisingly cuddly. She also had a decent voice, and they could spend hours quietly singing together as Jaskier composed between work. While Jaskier spent the week of Yule with his friends, the solstice was spent with the Countess. Waking up to a gentle snow outside, warm under a pile of blankets while snuggling her in his arms and gently playing with her soft, brown hair was amazing. It was a perfect, little, domestic life, and Jaskier was happy.</p><p>But he couldn’t stop his heart from continuing to yearn for more.</p>
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<a name="section0014"><h2>14. Chapter 14</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>I’m okay with parts of the Netflix scene for the djinn. Obviously I’m changing it up a lot though lmao. Also, a trend I’ve been noticing is yall will just, like. Sort of woobify Jaskier? You know? Like, Jaskier is 100% human and he makes stupid decisions and fucks up about as much as Geralt does, but in most fics and stuff I see people making Jaskier out as like, this perfect human who only comes up with witty shit and is super in tune with his emotions. So if yall come at me for making Jaskier not like that yall can leave<br/>Also I looked the original story up on the wiki just to see how different it was and?? The picture they use is fucking terrifying?? Like why does the djinn look like that lmfao</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The djinn attack happens this chapter, so some blood, gore, horror elements towards the end, Jaskier is a mess and changes into a dying mess at the end of the chapter</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jaskier wasn’t expecting any communication from Geralt over the winter, and that was fine. Kaer Morhen was an isolated ruin in the mountains, of course mail couldn’t reach it. And phones, while wonderfully cheap options for quick communications, had a very limited reach; phones could only contact people within their own countries. In Novigrad’s case, it was only within the city and Oxenfurt. </p><p>The only real way people could contact each other internationally and instantaneously was by xenovox, but they were incredibly expensive, magical, and limited in a different way. Xenovoxs could only go one way to contact one person; if people wanted to talk to each other, they’d each need one xenovox. </p><p>So it was radio silence from Geralt over the winter. Jaskier had thought, though, that once the spring arrived, Geralt would at least text Jaskier to let him know he was back in the city. </p><p>When April passed and there was still no word from Geralt, Jaskier realized he’d been wrong.</p><p>By that time, it was too late. The Countess didn’t really appreciate Jaskier’s constant checking of his phone, and Jaskier couldn’t blame her. It annoyed himself, how he checked his phone for a notification that would never appear every five minutes of every day. That, and he’d picked up his old habit of crying and playing the lute loudly during the early hours of the morning again. Jaskier felt bad about that one, but he had a tendency to forget he didn’t live alone anymore when he was at the Countess’s house just chilling on the sofa by himself. If his lute was nearby at that time, it was going to happen, and he couldn’t force himself to stop. How else was he gonna get it out?</p><p>And all his songs had turned sad, which was the final straw for the Countess. She kicked him off of her estate and out of her life, for good. Of course she wasn’t mean about it. Jaskier regretted treating her so awfully as she made sure he had everything, and texted him for the last time to make sure he’d gotten home safely.</p><p>Jaskier had loved her, had been happy with their life together, and now it was gone.</p><p>Priscilla had found him in his apartment a week later, having been notified by Yen of all people about how down Jaskier had been. Probably because he was underperforming at work. When she learned about everything, she told him he could just check to see if the witcher was back at the home he’d rented. And by the gods, she was right. Jaskier could do that.</p><p>But he wasn’t brave enough on his own. And yeah it was stupid in retrospect, but. Jaskier was only human. Priscilla’s suggestion and the liquid courage (read: stupidity) of alcohol was all Jaskier needed to knock violently on the front door of the house Geralt had been renting the previous year.</p><p>When the door swung open, he was confronted with Lambert’s annoyed-looking mug.</p><p>Luckily for Jaskier, he was only tipsy. He hid his flask and hoped the witcher hadn’t caught it before he managed to hide it. Also it was nice to know that he’d been right; Lambert was one of Geralt’s roommates.</p><p>Unluckily for Jaskier, he was an incredibly emotional drunk. And the emotion he happened to be feeling in that moment was anger. Lambert was also of the school of the wolf, which meant Kaer Morhen was freed of snow, and all of the wolf witchers had been free. Geralt could’ve been back in Novigrad for at least a day, as Jaskier could see past Lambert’s shoulder and the place looked well lived in already. That, or the man was not in Novigrad, which meant he’d lied to Jaskier before he’d left.</p><p>His anger just flared as Lambert rolled his eyes at Jaskier and smirked before saying, “Oh good, it’s Geralt’s boyfriend.”</p><p>“Just tell me where the fuck he is,” Jaskier snapped.</p><p>Lambert’s eyebrows shot up, and Jaskier swore he saw the man’s nostrils flare. Shit. If witchers could smell emotion, then Lambert could definitely smell the alcohol on him. “Feeling pissy today, huh doc?”</p><p>Jaskier took a deep breath in. He wasn’t angry at Lambert, and luckily was still sober enough to realize it. “I’m sorry. I was just wondering if Geralt was here.”</p><p>“Figured as much.” Lambert rolled his eyes. “D’you know where the halfling town is?”</p><p>“Yeah, just outside Tretogor.”</p><p>“There’s a little lake south of there. You’ll find him there. If you hit the Pontar, you’ve gone too far.” Lambert briefly appraised Jaskier, and Jaskier shifted a little uncomfortably. He hadn’t shaved in several days, and his hair was too unkempt for any self-respecting person to be walking around outside. There were probably heavy bags under his eyes, too, not to mention the flask he was still holding behind his back. All things Lambert probably noticed.</p><p>For once, though, the prickly witcher said nothing about Jaskier’s appearance or otherwise. He just said, “Kick his ass for us, huh?” before shutting the door in Jaskier’s face.</p><p>Jaskier blinked. Lambert was rarely happy, Jaskier knew this; the witcher held a bitterness in his heart that prevented him from enjoying life. But he’d never seen Lambert really angry. He had a feeling now that Lambert had also been angry, but not at Jaskier; at Geralt. Despite himself, he was a little worried for Lambert.</p><p>But he had a location now.</p><p>Taking a quick swig from his flask and muttering “prick” loud enough that he was sure Lambert could hear it through the closed door, he set off for a little lake south of Tretogor gate. As he walked there, he was careful to conserve the alcohol and keep it to just a light buzz in the back of his head. Just enough that he wouldn’t back out of confronting Geralt. </p><p>A question was also rattling around in his mind, now; why was Lambert angry at Geralt? Jaskier had his reasons, but none of them were ones Lambert could have, so it was probably related to why Geralt was at this lake. The way Lambert had talked about it, Jaskier doubted Geralt was on a contract. Maybe they’d argued earlier and Geralt had left. But then, why was Lambert confident Geralt was at this piddly little lake, out of all the places in and around Novigrad?</p><p>It was a two hour walk, and Jaskier was running out of alcohol when he caught sight of the witcher.</p><p>Jaskier had been right, Geralt wasn’t here on contract; while he had his swords on him, they were strapped on top of a loose white shirt without a piece of armor in sight. As he approached, he noticed the witcher was fishing, but casting way too small and way too deep, dragging the net along the bottom of the lake. Jaskier also appreciated the length of Geralt’s hair; if he forgave the witcher, he could make a nice, tidy braid out of it now. The shirt had rolled up sleeves, Geralt’s forearms shining as they flexed in the sun, and his spiky wolf’s medallion bounced on his partially exposed chest. Jaskier idly wondered if Geralt’s pecs had grown bigger, or if he’d just forgotten how fucking large they’d been, exposed by the deep V of the shirt. He hadn’t forgotten how nice Geralt’s ass was, watching that part in particular as it moved in those sinfully tight leather pants.</p><p>Ah, it was too early to be thirsting. He had to wait and see what Geralt had to say for himself.</p><p>Jaskier’s own shirt was unbuttoned, his hair sweaty; it was a hot day, and the alcohol wasn’t helping him keep any cooler, his cheeks flushed. It was an interesting look with the fairly high-waisted pants and very light jacket he was wearing, but he could make it work. Quickly arranging his gross, sweaty hair so it looked semi-decent, Jaskier approached loudly, taking a quick swig from his flask before shouting, “Oh, Geralt! Hello!”</p><p>Geralt didn’t even flinch, and kept dragging the net along the bottom of the lake. He’d probably heard Jaskier from half a mile away.</p><p>He continued, “Gosh, it’s been so long! How long? Weeks? Months? Ah, who cares. Time isn’t real, am I right?” Another sip of alcohol. </p><p>“Hello, Jaskier,” Geralt sighed as the net came back empty. The witcher walked slightly further down the lakeshore and tossed it out again.</p><p>“Yes, hello. I’d heard you were back in town, from Lambert, of all people.” No response. “‘How’re you doing,’ I hear you ask.”</p><p>“I didn’t,” Geralt grumbled as the net came back empty yet again.</p><p>“Well, I had a wonderful winter. It was all for naught, as my muse and light of my life--” Jaskier practically shouted both of those things at Geralt, “--the Countess de Stael, has left me! For good, I might add!”</p><p>“Sorry,” Geralt half-heartedly replied, tossing the net near to the middle of the lake and letting it sink.</p><p>“I fear I will die a lonely and brokenhearted man,” Jaskier tried for mournful, but the sentence came out bitter. He took another drink from his flask. “Of course, not so lonely if you’re willing to share a fish with an old friend, eh?”</p><p>Geralt didn’t reply, his brow furrowing as the net came up empty, mud dripping from the ropes. As the witcher kept moving down the lakeshore, Jaskier followed him. No turning back now, might as well see where this confrontation went.</p><p>“Oh, that’s right, we’re not friends, huh, Geralt?” Jaskier snapped. “What do you wanna give it, another year? A decade?”</p><p>Geralt threw the net, then seemed to register what Jaskier had said. “Are you angry?” he asked, finally turning to Jaskier. </p><p>“Am I angry, he asks.” Jaskier scoffed. “Can you fish, more like. Have you actually caught anything? You have to have been fishing for well over two hours now!”</p><p>Geralt just stared blankly at Jaskier before turning back to what he’d been doing.</p><p>“Geralt, you’re fantastic at a great many things, but just dogshit at others. Fishing’s one of them,” Jaskier started, “and--”</p><p>“I’m not fishing.”</p><p>Jaskier stared as Geralt pulled the net in. “Right. Good. So you’re just tossing a net in a lake for what, fun?” </p><p>It came up empty yet again, and you could sense Geralt’s frustration from twenty feet away. Jaskier’s anger started to melt away as he realized Geralt didn’t look super great, either; the man's beard and hair were matted and unwashed, his normally sharp amber eyes were slightly glazed, and he was shaking a tiny bit. The witcher had been trying to do something for at least two hours, probably more, and had nothing to show for it, apparently.</p><p>And then he forgot to be angry entirely when Geralt just sighed and threw the net back in. “Geralt? What’s going on, are you okay?”</p><p>The witcher sighed heavily through his nose, watching the net sink in the lake. Jaskier was about to talk further when Geralt replied, “There’s a djinn in this lake.”</p><p>Jaskier blinked. The flask was forgotten about as Jaskier approached further, peering at the lake over Geralt’s shoulder. “A djinn? Like, a genie? The floaty bitches you see on TV that grant wishes and all that, that like, come from a lamp? Those djinns?”</p><p>Geralt gave a terse nod. </p><p>“Uh. Hate to break it to you, Geralt, but djinns aren’t real.”</p><p>“They are. I’ve fought one before.”</p><p>“Okay, well, I’ll defer to you on knowing all things monster-y and magic-y, fine, but why in the hell would a genie be in this piddly little nowhere lake?”</p><p>Geralt just ignored Jaskier, dragging the net in, finding it empty, and moving down the lakeshore once more. Jaskier kept following him, dropping the flask after finding he’d spilled the last of his alcohol. </p><p>“And why do you want a genie? Is it for a contract? You’d have better luck finding one north of here, I bet. You know, the Countess de Stael had quite an extensive library, and we’d read each other books as the snow swirled around outside. . . Anyways, learned a fair amount about monsters, she had a weird amount of encyclopedias. Read some accounts about old witchers, too. She’d met one a long time ago, apparently. Did you know not all witchers are ornery bastards?”</p><p>Geralt growled as the net came up empty, frustration flaring once again. “Did you sing to her before she left you?”</p><p>“I did sing to her, quite a bit, and. . .” Jaskier’s slightly tipsy brain caught up with what Geralt said. “Hold on, wait. What are you implying?”</p><p>Geralt just glared at Jaskier, opening the empty net to be tossed again.</p><p>Jaskier’s anger from before suddenly came roaring back, no additional alcohol needed. “Oh ho ho, we’re really going to talk about this, huh? I didn’t think you’d heard any of my songs before, Geralt, you’ve never bothered to listen to them! Tell me, darling,” Jaskier’s voice was dripping with sarcasm at this point, “how’s my singing?!”</p><p>“It’s like ordering pie and finding it has no filling,” Geralt said, perfectly deadpan now as he threw the net back into the lake.</p><p>Jaskier’s jaw dropped. He hadn’t been expecting an answer at all, let alone an insult like that. Gaping like a fish, Jaskier flailed a bit, scrambling for a reply. </p><p>“You-- need a nap!”</p><p>The roulette wheel had landed on what his mother used to tell him when he threw tantrums as a child. Trying to recover, Jaskier desperately continued, “I mean, after all that work I put into my songs, that’s what you have to say? It’s downright rude, is what that is, and you know, at least I have a reason to be angry at your ridiculously fine ass, I’m not the one straight up ghosting the other here--”</p><p>He stopped when he realized Geralt was holding something other than the net in his hands.</p><p>"You catch something finally? What's that, a rock?"</p><p>Geralt turned, eyes glinting with triumph. In his hands was a muddy, solid-looking, small clay jug. The top was sealed with a stone stopper, an ancient character Jaskier couldn't read inscribed on top of it.</p><p>"Melitele's tits," Jaskier breathed. He stared as Geralt slowly turned and approached, holding what was apparently a djinn’s vessel in his hands. For a moment, both men stood there staring at it with wide, disbelieving eyes.</p><p>Jaskier grabbed it.</p><p>Geralt looked surprised for about half a second, then annoyed. He’d lost his grip on the sides of the jug, but managed to grab the stone stopper in the top. Jaskier yanked the jug around, but of course, Geralt was a million times stronger than him, and held on with one hand with no trouble at all.</p><p>“Jaskier, what are you doing,” he grunted.</p><p>“You can have it back after you apologize, and take back what you said about the fillingless pie!” Jaskier replied between yanks for the jug.</p><p>“Jaskier--”</p><p>“Just let go, you horse’s ass--”</p><p>Jaskier just managed to keep from falling on his butt as the stone seal suddenly came loose from the jug, Geralt holding it in his hand and staring at it.</p><p>The air was still and silent around them.</p><p>Jaskier frowned, peeking into the jar. Empty. He tilted it a couple times just to be sure, and it remained empty. “Well, that was anticlimactic.”</p><p>Although the sun remained bright in the sky, the atmosphere around the lake suddenly darkened. Both Geralt’s and Jaskier’s heads snapped upwards as. . . something blotted out the sun, whipping up winds that shook the trees and crashed waves against the previously calm lakeshore. The power of the thing hit Jaskier in the face, and he gasped at how awesome it was. </p><p>“That’s more like it!” he exclaimed. Refusing to look at Geralt’s dumb face, which was staring at the seal in his hand in confusion, Jaskier walked forward to confront the powerful thing. It must have been the Djinn, hovering around the lake and broiling in fury. “Djinn, as of this day, I have freed you, and therefore are your lord!”</p><p>The djinn didn’t respond verbally, but the lake was whipping into a frenzy, so Jaskier assumed it worked. </p><p>“Firstly, I would like Valdo Marx, born prodigy of Cidaris and professional dickhead, to suddenly contract apoplexy and die,” Jaskier shouted. The asshole deserved it, and he’d granted the man a relatively quick death anyhow. He’d see Valdo in hell. “Secondly, I’d like the Countess de Stael to welcome me back onto her estate, preferably with open arms and very little clothing.” Not the best wish, but he did miss her. And also the crazy awesome sex. “Thirdly--”</p><p>A rough hand grabbing the back of his shirt had him reeling back, and he flailed a bit as Geralt hauled him away from the djinn, the witcher planting himself between Jaskier and the djinn. “Wha--” Jaskier started.</p><p>“Stop, Jaskier! There’s only three wishes, and I’m not sure the djinn is granting them,” Geralt growled, still holding Jaskier by his shirt like one would the scruff of a puppy.</p><p>Jaskier scoffed and batted Geralt’s arm away, the empty jug waving around in his hand. Geralt dropped Jaskier on his feet, reaching back for his silver sword and glaring at the djinn in his periphery. “Oh, I’m sorry, Geralt, I didn’t realize you wanted anything! What was it, a pile of coin? Maybe then I wouldn’t have to buy you half the damn things you own!”</p><p>“Jaskier, I need--”</p><p>“Oh, you wanted all the wishes, was that it?!” Jaskier was now full-blown yelling at Geralt, anger tinting his vision red. “How was I to know you wanted three wishes all to yourself?! You--”</p><p>“I just wanted some peace!” Geralt roared back, finally losing his temper with Jaskier.</p><p>“Well, here’s your damned peace!” Jaskier screamed, swinging the jar at Geralt’s head. Geralt, of course, avoided it, and Jaskier couldn’t stop the momentum of his arm from swinging the empty jug right into a tree. Clay shards sprayed everywhere, the wind carrying some of them far into the underbrush.</p><p>Geralt cursed as the being hovering over the lake swarmed around Jaskier. Jaskier couldn’t even react, and suddenly realized he couldn’t breathe. He backed up, roughly hitting a tree with his right side, grasping desperately at his throat. Panic set in. He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t breathe--</p><p>Distantly, around the roaring in his ears, he heard Geralt shout something desperately in a language he didn’t understand. Then Geralt was aiming a sign at him.</p><p>Jaskier’s eyes widened even further, and he frantically shook his head, trying to breath in so he could shriek a terrified no.</p><p>A blast of force knocked Jaskier flat against the tree, his head whacking the bark.</p><p>Black spotted his vision as he lurched forward, still unable to breath properly. A wheeze rattled its way past some obstruction in his throat, and he scrabbled at it with his fingernails. He could feel something in there, something growing, slowly but surely. It was going to cut off his already limited airway. Jaskier forced his tongue to work. “Ger,” he managed, so weakly he could hardly hear himself. Trying his best to pull air into his lungs, Jaskier peered up at the witcher through teary eyes. “Geralt,” he croaked. He reached out one of his hands towards the blurry outline of the witcher.</p><p>“Jaskier,” Geralt mumbled, grabbing Jaskier’s outstretched forearm. With the other hand, he steadied Jaskier by his opposite shoulder. His amber gaze searched Jaskier’s face. “What’s wrong?”</p><p>Jaskier looked up, convulsed, and spewed blood all over the witcher’s white shirt.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. Chapter 15</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Look I can’t write Yen correctly. I have a lot of trouble writing mean, gray characters guys I’m sorry I really tried :( Anyway this chapter is basically Let Yen Say Fuck More<br/>Also it's long as hell because I don't know how to write action scenes yeehaw<br/>My feelings are conflicted about the actor they chose for my boy Lambert. I guess I'm overall glad they're including Lambert at all :P</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Jaskier is still dying at the beginning of this chapter, so blood and gore. Geralt's shirt is basically red by the end of the chapter :(</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Jaskier had dreamed of the day when he got to ride Roach for the first time. He’d imagined hugging Geralt’s back, the wind whipping by his face, stealing his whoops of joy away. The intimacy of sharing a seat, of being so close to Geralt, and holding the man as he drove the entire way to wherever they’d been going had been a fun fantasy Jaskier had had during particularly boring trips in the dingy little sidecar.</p><p>He hadn’t imagined it’d be like this, with blood dribbling out of his mouth and gasping for air. </p><p>Geralt had haphazardly tied Jaskier to his back with a rope so Jaskier wouldn’t fly off. It had been a good idea; it took everything Jaskier had just to stay upright in the seat as Geralt drove like a madman, accelerating around turns and taking whatever ill-advised shortcuts he could.</p><p>Jaskier didn’t even know where Geralt was going. It definitely wasn’t back to Novigrad.</p><p>Ah, well, Jaskier thought between panicked heaves, if I’m going to die, it’ll be with the man I love. And he did love Geralt, as a friend and more. It was unfortunate he wasn’t going to get more, but he hoped he’d manage to tell Geralt before he kicked the bucket. Which sent him into more panicked heaving as he thought about dying. He couldn’t die. He hadn’t created his own album yet, he hadn’t seen the world yet, he hadn’t loved Geralt. Gods, what had he been angry about earlier? It couldn’t matter anymore.</p><p>Geralt took another turn at breakneck speeds, and Jaskier hucked another spurt of bright red blood onto the witcher’s shirt. He’d buy Geralt a new one if he lived through this. He had one hand wrapped around Geralt’s waist as good as he could get it, while the other hand continued to uselessly grab at his own throat. All that really did was serve to panic Jaskier more, as he could feel a mass growing slowly in there, but he couldn’t help it.</p><p>“Geralt,” Jaskier choked. “Geralt, I--”</p><p>“Save your breath,” Geralt snarled, but it wasn’t unkindly. “Jaskier, don’t talk. It’ll be fine.”</p><p>Jaskier thought back briefly to Geralt’s litany of fucks after he’d realized how screwed Jaskier was back at the lake, but decided to follow Geralt’s advice. He tried to breathe, gasping against Geralt’s back like a fish out of water. Jaskier focused on Geralt’s voice, which was now muttering, over and over, “It’ll be fine. It’ll be okay.” Like Geralt could speak it into existence.</p><p>He slowly realized, around the never-ending panic in his brain, that Geralt was afraid for him. So the witcher did care about him, at least a little. A small bit of comfort.</p><p>If Jaskier could, he would’ve laughed at the expression of the Scoia’tael guard as Geralt roared into their encampment on Roach, yelling, “Is there a healer here?!”</p><p>The guard gave them a quick once-over, and, apparently deciding they weren’t a threat, he pointed Geralt towards a tent with a painted red cross over it. Geralt quickly disembarked, untying Jaskier and basically carrying the man towards the tent. Jaskier would’ve swooned if he could fucking breath.</p><p>Holding Jaskier with one arm, Geralt flung open the flap of the tent. “Healer in here?” he asked gruffly, amber eyes darting around.</p><p>“Yes, there is,” a young elf replied in the back. He looked up from what he was doing, which was some sort of alchemy, and stared at Jaskier. His eyes widened almost comically as Jaskier spat blood on the floor, then grinned at the elf, giving a small wave. “Please, sit him here,” the elf said quickly, indicating a short stool. Geralt carefully set Jaskier down as the elf rushed around the tent, grabbing various tools.</p><p>“Geralt,” Jaskier wheezed, grabbing the witcher’s arm as he stood.</p><p>“I’m right here, Jaskier. I won’t go anywhere,” Geralt murmured. He stood behind Jaskier, supporting the man’s back as the elf approached Jaskier, pulling up a stool of his own.</p><p>“Can you open your mouth?” the elf asked.</p><p>Jaskier tried his best, though opening his jaw pushed down on the mass in his throat, causing it to further constrict his airway. The elf noticed, and told him to close his mouth after flashing a light into it quickly. He frowned and gave Jaskier a look he himself was familiar with giving. Jaskier’s stomach dropped to the ground, and he whined in distress.</p><p>“Unfortunately, the tumor growing in his throat is of a magical nature. There’s little I can do for it but attempt to ease the pain it causes,” the elf said, mostly addressing Geralt. “Of course, that won’t solve the problem. I estimate he has about a day before the tumor grows enough to completely block his airway.”</p><p>Jaskier’s blood ran cold. He choked, feeling more blood dribble down his chin, and whipped his head up as much as possible to look at Geralt with teary eyes. “Fuck! Geralt, no,” he pleaded, grasping his friend’s arm desperately.</p><p>“It’ll be okay, Jaskier. I won’t let you die,” Geralt said, with way more conviction than a man who could do next to nothing to heal Jaskier should have. Still, it comforted him. “How far away is Rinde?”</p><p>“Two hours. One if you go fast enough.” The elf raised an eyebrow as he looked Geralt over. “A dispatch of the church of the Eternal Flame passed near here on their way to Rinde not forty minutes ago. Although led by a priest, they were rather heavily armed.”</p><p>Geralt’s brow furrowed. “We’ll have to risk it. Here--” Geralt gave the elf healer a sizable purse, and the elf’s eyes lit up.</p><p>“Would you like any pain medicine before you go?” the elf asked, quickly stowing away the coin purse.</p><p>“No, he’ll be fine,” Geralt growled, picking Jaskier up gently and turning to leave. Jaskier gurgled and clung to Geralt, eyes rolling wildly in his head.</p><p>“Thank you kindly, and good luck getting to Rinde,” the elf healer said.</p><p>Geralt managed to make it to Rinde in a little over an hour. Unfortunately, he could not blow past the Redanian guard present at the gates. The fact that it was Redanian guards also confused Jaskier; didn’t the elf say Eternal Flame? It was hard to get them mixed up, between the bright reds of the Redanian guards and the dark colors and distinctive headwear the thugs from the Eternal Flame normally wore.</p><p>Also why the fuck were he and Geralt in Rinde?</p><p>The two Redanian guards halted them. Jaskier gurgled against Geralt’s back, scratching worriedly at his own throat. The elf healer had given him a day, but Jaskier was in terrible pain, and could already barely breathe. The elf healer, Jaskier decided, had lied and given him more time than he really had.</p><p>“What’s your business in Rinde?” one of the guards barked, polearm pointed in Geralt’s direction.</p><p>Jaskier felt Geralt sigh. “My friend is hurt. I need to get him treatment from a doctor here.”</p><p>The other guard peered curiously at Jaskier while the first guard, who’d asked Geralt, narrowed his eyes. “Rinde’s closed. Go somewhere else.”</p><p>Geralt sighed again, this time very audibly. Very slowly, so as not to spook the guards, Geralt reached into his pockets and pulled out another large coin purse. Jaskier had no idea where Geralt had gotten all of this money, or why he was spending it so frivolously. He did have some idea as to why Geralt discreetly untied himself from Jaskier while he retrieved the coin purse, however, and hoped no additional panic showed on his face. Aside from being on the receiving end of a sign a couple hours ago, now, this would be the closest Jaskier got to a fight Geralt got into. He just hoped the guards would be distracted enough by the witcher that they wouldn’t go after him.</p><p>“Would coin open Rinde for just a little? As you can see, my friend needs medical attention now. We don’t have time,” Geralt asked, holding up the large bag of coin. To emphasize his point, Jaskier hacked up more blood onto Geralt’s shirt and wheezed loudly. It wasn’t on purpose, but maybe if he exaggerated a bit it’d help them make their case.</p><p>It did for the guard who had been looking at Jaskier; Jaskier watched as the guard shrugged, making meaningful eye contact with Geralt, while the other guard scoffed.</p><p>“You think you can buy us, witcher? Fuck off, before I make you fuck off,” the guard sneered, readying his polearm.</p><p>“Very well,” Geralt said, sitting up on Roach.</p><p>Before Jaskier could react, let alone the Redanian guards, Geralt had leapt off of Roach at the guard with the polearm. His arm drew back and thwapped the guard upside the head with the heavy bag of coin, and the man dropped like a sack of potatoes, polearm landing on the ground with a thud.</p><p>Jaskier gasped, then choked and coughed, turning his head so he wouldn’t get much blood on the leather seat of Roach.</p><p>The other guard, meanwhile, just raised a brow, then shrugged and nodded. </p><p>“Thank you,” Geralt muttered, pressing the bag of coin into the outstretched guard’s hand.</p><p>“Of course. I’m half elf, we have to stick together,” the Redanian guard replied. “Go ahead, knock me out. I’ll survive.”</p><p>Geralt nodded, then reeled back and punched the half-elf guard in the face after he’d pocketed the coin. He similarly fell to the ground, weapon clanging on the ground next to him. The witcher quickly scuffed up both of the guard’s uniforms, then moved back to Jaskier, hauling the man off of Roach so he could hide the bike in the bushes.</p><p>Jaskier would’ve loved to make a witty comment, but only managed to get out Geralt’s name before hacking up more blood on his shirt.</p><p>“Hang on, Jaskier,” Geralt rumbled, basically picking the man up again. “We’re almost there.”</p><p>“Whe--” More blood filled Jaskier’s mouth. He groaned in frustration as he spat it on the ground, blood dribbling down his chin and further staining his shirt. Not being able to communicate was the second worst thing about his current condition. Where the hell were they going? Why were they in Rinde? He wheezed against Geralt’s chest, and realized the man’s medallion was vibrating all on its own. Strange. Jaskier wondered if it was reacting to his ailment, or something in Rinde. It could explain the Redanian and Eternal Flame presence.</p><p>Geralt moved incredibly quickly and quietly through the town. A true miracle considering he was also carrying Jaskier, who was about the same height as Geralt, weighed a fair amount, and was currently wheezing and hacking around a giant tumor in his throat. Because of Geralt, they made it to a relatively fancy house in the upper town. Jaskier supposed it was owned by a banker, or a merchant, who’d done fairly well for themselves. Rinde wasn’t a big place, but it was in Redania, and it was well respected. Or doctors made enough money, Jaskier supposed, to have a nice home like this.</p><p>Then Geralt was knocking furiously on the back door of the establishment, supporting basically Jaskier’s entire weight with one arm.</p><p>The door swung open, and Jaskier wheezed in surprise.</p><p>“I’m afraid he’s not -- Geralt?” Yennefer of fucking Vengerberg, of all the people, answered the door. And apparently she knew who Geralt was. Her violet eyes flicked to Jaskier, then widened in alarm as the man choked on that wheeze. Her mood quickly changed to disgust as he accidentally spewed blood all over her nice black dress.</p><p>“Oh, for the love of the gods. . . get him in, hurry up,” Yen snapped, holding the door open for both of them. Around the never ending panic and fear in Jaskier’s head, he was reeling. Yennefer and Geralt knew each other well, apparently. When Eskel had visited that first time, was Geralt the friend who’d wanted to let Yennefer know he was in town? When and where had the sorceress and witcher first met each other? Did Geralt know about Ciri? Ciri had called Eskel her uncle, and Eskel tended to refer to the other wolf witchers as his brothers. Geralt and Ciri both had that light hair. . . was it possible that Ciri was. . . But no. Witchers were infertile, it was impossible. Wasn’t it? Geralt had those extra mutations, though, the ones that made him different from every other witcher. Could it be possible Geralt could have biological children?</p><p>Jaskier was snapped out of his thoughts as Geralt placed Jaskier gently on the bed, then went to move away.</p><p>“No, no, no, Geralt, no,” Jaskier moaned, eyes widening in further panic and grabbing at Geralt.</p><p>“Shush, Jaskier, it’s alright. Yen can help you.” Geralt’s hand brushed a little vaguely through Jaskier’s sweaty hair, and though light, the touch was comforting, and Jaskier calmed a little. Then he frowned, and he turned to look at Yen. “Right?”</p><p>The sorceress was rushing around the room, gathering water and other supplies. She scoffed and brushed past Geralt in her rush. “Of course I can. You have to leave, though, I need space.”</p><p>“Jaskier, he’s--”</p><p>“I’ll sedate him. It’ll be fine.” Jaskier couldn’t see Geralt’s face from his position on the bed, and couldn’t really pay attention; he was focusing too much on trying to breath. But he saw Yen look at Geralt’s expression, and her own turned almost sympathetic. “He’ll be okay, Geralt. I don’t know what happened, but he won’t die. Not under my care.”</p><p>Jaskier saw Geralt sigh, his shoulders sinking just a little. There was a lot of his blood on the witcher’s shirt. Jaskier vaguely wondered, behind the pervasive terror, if he needed blood. He wondered what his hemoccult and other blood work would look like right now. Geralt removed his hand from Jaskier’s hair, patted his shoulder, and then started to move away.</p><p>Before Jaskier could panic, Yennefer was weaving magic at him, and the last thing he saw was her neck pendant glowing.</p><p>He woke again slowly, lights swimming in his vision before focusing. A brief panic hit Jaskier as he remembered what had happened earlier; it dissipated quickly when he realized he could breathe normally. Ah, he was never going to take breathing for granted ever again. Sunlight was streaming through the windows of the room, and Jaskier didn’t know if it was the same day of the djinn attack or the next day. Or perhaps he’d been in a coma for much longer.</p><p>Rubbing his throat, which was just a little sore, Jaskier moaned and sat up in the bed, coughing a little.</p><p>Yennefer of Vengerburg was standing at the end of the bed, peering down her nose and frowning at Jaskier. She was wearing fashionable high-waisted pants and a pretty black shirt, the sleeves of which were rolled up. Her purple eyes were fixed on him, and as he met her gaze, her eyes narrowed.</p><p>Jaskier groaned and flopped back onto the bed. “Am I in hell?” he grunted, throat still fairly rough and warbling his voice.</p><p>“Hilarious,” Yen replied, deadpan. He heard the clack of her heeled boots as she got up and walked around to the side of the bed. Springs creaked and Jaskier felt the dip as Yen sat on the edge of the bed with a sigh. “Did you know, Jaskier, I don’t specialize in healing magic?”</p><p>“No. It doesn’t really matter, you’re good at it,” Jaskier muttered. He had an arm thrown over his face. “I’m guessing you’re gonna tell me the kind of magic you specialize in?”</p><p>“I’m not. I’m telling you this because I’ve been alive a long time, Jaskier, and so has Geralt. Well over five times as old as you’ve been alive.”</p><p>“Which one of you’s older?”</p><p>He didn’t see it, his arm still flung over his face, but he heard the small smile in Yen’s voice. “That’s not a nice question to ask a lady.”</p><p>Jaskier shrugged.</p><p>Yen sighed, shuffling a bit on the bed. “I’m older by about forty years. The point is, when you get to be over a century old with no end in sight, you tend to gravitate towards others like you. And Geralt. . . is a special case.”</p><p>Jaskier peeked out from under his arm with one eye, and what he saw made his heart sink. Although most of his relationship with Yen was work related, he got on better with her than most of the other sorceresses they worked with. And he’d always been good at reading people’s faces. So while he’d never seen the expression on Yen’s face before, he recognized it. </p><p>“You love him?” </p><p>Yen made a so-so gesture with her hands. “It’s. . . complicated. But it’s the reason Geralt was looking for that djinn.”</p><p>“You sent Geralt out after that djinn?!”</p><p>“Yes, I did. I didn’t know you knew Geralt, let alone that you’d accompany him to that lake. I have no clue why he let you.”</p><p>“He didn’t,” Jaskier snapped, throwing his arm over both his eyes again. He tried unsuccessfully to keep the bitterness out of his voice as he continued, “I followed him there due to a misunderstanding, on my part.”</p><p>Yen was silent for just a bit too long. When Jaskier moved his arm to see if she was still there, she was, staring at him with a strange look on her face. “What?” he asked, defensively.</p><p>“What Geralt does, it’s dangerous work. You shouldn’t try to get involved with him,” Yen said.</p><p>“It’s none of your business,” Jaskier grumbled.</p><p>“I just saved your life because you got involved, Jaskier, and we’re. . . colleagues. I think it’s a little bit my business.”</p><p>Jaskier rolled onto his side away from Yennefer, pouting. She was right, of course, but it was a bit late for that warning. He’d sort of known what he was getting into, a little under a year ago, now. Geralt was a witcher, and he had no illusions as to what a witcher was and did. And now he was able to pursue his life’s dream, what could be his life’s magnum opus with Geralt. But Geralt was old, unfathomably so for Jaskier. Yennefer and Geralt had been. . . together, in some way, and had a ton of history. While Jaskier was fairly confident in how he looked, he couldn’t compare to fucking Yennefer. Very few people could. As far as personality went, Jaskier and Yen were polar opposites. </p><p>“Why’d you want Geralt to get the djinn?” Jaskier asked instead, changing the subject.</p><p>“It’s none of your business,” Yen snarked.</p><p>“Well, I almost got killed by it, so I’d say it is a little bit my business.”</p><p>“It’s your own fault you almost got killed.”</p><p>Jaskier stuck out his tongue at her. “Fine, then, be like that. I’ll just ask Geralt.”</p><p>Yen just snorted. “You do that,” she muttered under her breath.</p><p>“Where is he, anyway? I’d have thought he’d want to see his bestest friend in the whole world when he awoke,” Jaskier grunted, sitting up and stretching a bit.</p><p>Yen chuckled a little at that before standing up and moving to the door. “He should be back soon. I asked him to take care of some of the Eternal Flame knocking at our door before we capture that rogue djinn. Which reminds me--” Yen turned to Jaskier, still in the doorway. “-- you need to go, Jaskier.”</p><p>“What? Wait, Geralt’s fighting someone?” Jaskier said, suddenly energized. “Why aren’t you helping him, Yen?” Geralt rarely fought actual people; the only people Jaskier had seen Geralt fight were bandits they’d been unable to avoid on the road, mostly. Even then, he rarely bothered to kill them. The way Yen phrased it, though, it sounded like she’d sent Geralt to kill the entire force of Eternal Flame in Rinde. While the church wasn’t great, it didn’t sound like something Geralt would normally do.</p><p>It also sounded really dangerous.</p><p>All Yen did, however, was scoff. “Geralt’s a big boy, he can take care of himself. You should worry about yourself, Jaskier.”</p><p>“I’m a big boy,” Jaskier replied indignantly, then blushed at how stupid that sounded.</p><p>Yen, unsurprisingly, was unimpressed. “I’m not worried about the fucking church, I’m worried about the djinn. Geralt can handle a few fanatics. Against a rogue, furious djinn, though? There, he’ll need my help. And we need to subdue this bitch before it goes on a rampage,” she explained, turning to walk out of the door. Before it could close fully, Jaskier sighed in exasperation and followed Yen.</p><p>The house they were in was nice, which Jaskier supposed he should’ve expected. Of course Yen lived in a nice house, she wouldn’t dare be caught dead in a tiny little hovel somewhere. Whoever owned it was rich, and liked collecting things; little display cases lined the halls, and tapestries and paintings hung on the already ornate walls. It was a bit distasteful, if Jaskier was being honest, but the rich would do whatever they wanted, other’s opinions be damned.</p><p>“I’ll be the first to admit I don’t know anything about djinns, Yen, but I thought they were famous for granting wishes,” Jaskier huffed. He was still a bit weak, and though Yen was wearing ridiculously high heels, she was setting quite the pace. “So what the hell happened?”</p><p>“What part of ‘this is dangerous’ do you not understand?” Yen replied, approaching a large foyer.</p><p>“The part where we apparently treat me like I’m a small child and not a grown adult,” Jaskier snapped.</p><p>Before he could react, Yen had turned and grabbed Jaskier’s arm with surprising strength, stopping him in his tracks. He stared at her as she glared at him. “I could snap you like a twig with just a thought,” she snarled, “and this djinn is far more powerful than I am. Curb your gods-damned enthusiasm, Jask.”</p><p>“It already tried to kill me, I’m fine! Besides, Geralt--”</p><p>“Can you stop thinking with your dick for once?”</p><p>“I’m not, I’m worried for his safety! You should know how he is, you’ve known him longer!”</p><p>“You’re right, I’ve known him long enough to know he’ll be perfectly fine!”</p><p>“Then you don’t know him very well at all!”</p><p>At that, Yen glared so coldly at Jaskier he was a bit surprised she hadn’t killed him. Perhaps he’d crossed a bit of a line. “I’m firing you.”</p><p>“On what grounds?”</p><p>“On the grounds that you’re being a complete and utter dumbass right now.”</p><p>“Perfect, then you have absolutely no say over what I do,” Jaskier replied, walking towards the front door.</p><p>Before he reached the door, and before Yen could stop him, the door blew open all on its own, and the dark presence of the djinn rushed past Jaskier into the room. It was writhing, as much as something intangible could writhe, and he swore he heard agonized shrieking ringing in the back of his head. Before Jaskier could form a reasonable thought, terror gripped his mind, and he was frozen in the doorway, eyes rolling in his head. Maybe he was screaming. Maybe Yen was yelling something, he didn’t know. He was stuck in a spiral, fear dragging his sanity into nonexistence.</p><p>And then Jaskier was being tackled by something white, red, and very solid.</p><p>Jaskier landed on the floor, throat more hoarse than it had been before. He had been screaming. A familiar hand was protecting the back of Jaskier’s head, and he was just able to breath under Geralt’s heavy mass as the witcher cast one of his signs above his head.</p><p>“Ah, fuck,” Geralt grunted, apparently struggling to hold the sign up. It was a golden shield, reflecting the color of the witcher’s eyes. It held off the djinn, which finished blowing into the room and was now hanging out near the ceiling. The heavy front doors slammed shut behind it. Craning his neck, Jaskier saw Yen weaving spells rapidly, shouting ancient words at the creature.</p><p>“Jaskier,” Geralt rumbled from above. Jaskier turned, eyes wide at Geralt, as the man dispelled his shield and started to stand. “You okay?”</p><p>“Uh, yeah, actually. Against all the odds, I think so,” Jaskier replied, quickly doing a once-over. His mind was still a bit scrambled, but he was recovering. He took Geralt’s offered hand, and quickly stood, both of them keeping eyes on the djinn.</p><p>Jaskier’s attention quickly turned from the raging djinn back to Geralt as the witcher started gently pushing Jaskier towards a hallway.</p><p>“Wh-- excuse me, hey! What do you think you’re doing?” Jaskier shouted indignantly, twisting out of the way of the next push.</p><p>“You need to run, you’re in the way, Jaskier,” Geralt growled, hefting up his silver sword and sheathing a blood-stained steel sword on his back.</p><p>“I--”</p><p>“Didn’t Yen tell you to run?”</p><p>“I did! A little help, Geralt?!” Yen screamed from across the room.</p><p>“Hm. Fuck,” Geralt spat, now glaring at Jaskier. He looked back at the witcher, a little in shock; though of course the man had glared at him before, there’d never been real venom behind it like there was now. It was weird, and Jaskier didn’t like it. </p><p>So, instead of listening to Geralt, he just stood there staring in disbelief at the man while he cast that sign again, the force one. What was it called again? Aard? Whatever it was, the djinn didn’t like it; it stopped attacking Yen and immediately started going after Geralt instead.</p><p>“Oh, fuck. Oh fuck, Geralt, why are you just--” Jaskier started to panic, eyes wide and darting between the rapidly approaching black mass of angry djinn and Geralt, who, while in a somewhat defensive position with his silver sword, was rifling through his pockets. He was looking for something, something that was now missing. Jaskier’s eyes shot to where he’d been tackled just moments before, and saw what Geralt must’ve been looking for; he’d kept the seal of that djinn in one of his pockets, and it’d fallen out when he’d saved Jaskier the second time.</p><p>Without thinking, Jaskier dove for the seal and grabbed it as Geralt gave up looking for it in his pockets. The witcher threw up another quick sign, and the golden shield appeared. However, it couldn’t withstand the full force of the djinn; it shattered almost as soon as the djinn touched it, and while Geralt swung his sword to meet the thing, it didn’t matter. It was like trying to fight fog. The djinn engulfed Geralt.</p><p>What had it been Geralt had shouted? Jaskier prayed to any and all of the gods that his panic-riddled and fearful mind wouldn’t fail him now, and jumped for Geralt, holding the seal high in the air and screaming words he didn’t understand.</p><p>As soon as Jaskier contacted Geralt through the djinn, one arm desperately wrapping around the witcher’s chest, seal still high in the air, the djinn squealed and exploded from Geralt to ricochet around the room.</p><p>Jaskier hadn’t realized his eyes were closed until he heard Yen yelling.</p><p>“Jaskier! Jaskier, gods damn it all, throw me the fucking seal, now!” </p><p>Both eyes slamming open, adrenaline pumping through his veins, Jaskier turned and chucked the seal at Yen, who was about thirty feet away. It was wide by about two feet, but it was close enough; Yen swept up the seal in a spell, and as she encased the thing in a white, fiery bubble, the djinn was similarly wrapped up suddenly in a larger bubble.</p><p>Jaskier slumped as the djinn thrashed, but seemed unable to escape. Yen grunted in effort, but her magic held strong, and Jaskier breathed a sigh of relief.</p><p>“Jaskier,” Geralt muttered weakly, near Jaskier’s ear.</p><p>“Ah, Geralt, it doesn’t sound like you’re choking to death. That’s good. How’re you feeling?” Jaskier started rambling, the adrenaline trying to find an outlet now the immediate danger was gone. When his heart stopped beating when he looked at Geralt, it was actually painful.</p><p>Geralt was still glaring at him.</p><p>Jaskier quickly let go as Geralt dragged himself away, the witcher tiredly sheathing his silver sword behind him. He did a cursory onceover on instinct; while tired, Geralt didn’t appear to have come to any physical harm, though his white shirt was literally blood red at this point. That wasn’t all Jaskier’s blood, either; Jaskier could see his own blood, it was darker than the new stains. The new blood must’ve been from the guards Yen had said Geralt had been fighting.</p><p>“When I tell you to run, Jaskier,” Geralt growled, “you fucking run.”</p><p>Jaskier scoffed and stared back indignantly. “I don’t know if you noticed, dear, but I just saved your fucking life, huh? You lost that seal, and I found--”</p><p>“I lost it because I had to save your ass, again, from the fucking djinn!” Geralt yelled back.</p><p>Jaskier opened his mouth to start shouting back.</p><p>“Boys, please, fight later. I’d like to take care of this rogue djinn first. We all almost died to it, okay?” Yen snapped, interrupting their argument.</p><p>Geralt sighed, putting his head in one hand. “Just. . . wait a little further back, in case something goes wrong.” When he looked up and saw Jaskier just staring back at him furiously, Geralt asked quietly, “please?”</p><p>The fight drained out of Jaskier. He tried not to let it show, nodding stiffly and turning to finally do as asked of him. He didn’t go far, though; he wanted to see what would happen, and so waited at the mouth of a nearby hallway.</p><p>It was a strange scene. The foyer, once impeccable and ornately decorated, was basically completely destroyed. Magic floated through the air, and Jaskier saw for the first time that Yen had turned the foyer into some sort of magical trap for the djinn. It had burst through the door and Geralt had come after it so quickly because Geralt must’ve managed to summon it and lead it here in order to trap it. However, the trap couldn’t save the room; windows were shattered, ceiling partially destroyed, with bits still falling from above, stairs newly inaccessible, all decorations thrown about the room and torn to shreds. The floors and walls were scratched and weirdly warped where the djinn must’ve thrown itself at them, trying to escape. Yen and now Geralt, his swords sheathed, were standing in front of the white, fiery bubble containing the furious djinn, which was still attempting to escape.</p><p>Yen started to speak to it.</p><p>“Djinn, your seal was tampered and broken, and left you trapped in this realm for millennia as you lay forgotten at the bottom of a lake. While you saw brief escape, you know now that you will always be connected to this seal, and therefore to me, as I have you trapped once again.”</p><p>The djinn howled, and Jaskier could hear its anguish. Now that Jaskier thought about it, he’d probably be really pissed too if that had happened to him. Of course, he still wished the djinn hadn’t tried to kill him, but he understood a bit better what was happening.</p><p>“You and I can stay here for the rest of time, djinn, trapped in a battle of magic and will. Or, you can do as I say; one wish, and I will destroy this seal once and for all, and you will be free to go home,” Yen continued.</p><p>To Jaskier’s surprise, the djinn suddenly quieted. A face, just vague enough that Jaskier couldn’t really focus on it, appeared in the mist. A voice reverberated suddenly in the back of his mind, and he was sure it was speaking to Yen and Geralt too. “What is your last wish, sorceress?”</p><p>Jaskier saw Yen’s shoulders slump slightly in relief. Jaskier was glad this was working, too; if the djinn had remained disagreeable, then Yen would be right, and she and the djinn would be stuck there until one of them bent.</p><p>“Do you see the bond between myself and this witcher, forcibly forged by one of your kin?” Yen asked.</p><p>Jaskier’s eyebrows shot up. What? Yen and Geralt had some kind of magical bond? And, despite himself, Jaskier felt the sickly feeling of jealousy grip his guts. Of course they did. They had all sorts of history that Jaskier couldn’t hope to compare to. He sulked silently in the entryway as the djinn intoned a “yes.”</p><p>“I want you to break it.”</p><p>Jaskier straightened in surprise, and then more so when he saw Geralt staring at Yen in surprise. She wanted to break their magical djinn bond? But why? And Geralt hadn’t known what Yen had wanted, but had done something as dangerous as this anyway because what, she’d asked? This whole situation was so strange and carried a weird hurt, and Jaskier had the sudden urge to run, something he hadn’t really felt since he’d lived at his parents’ estate. </p><p>Before he could make up his mind, though, the djinn’s face had disappeared back into the mist with a vague “as you wish.”</p><p>A flash of white light, and the djinn was gone, white dust powdering Yen’s hands. Jaskier couldn’t see her expression from where he was, could only see her clapping the dust off of her hands onto the floor. Had that been it? Was that bond broken, then? Had Yen gotten her wish?</p><p>And then Jaskier saw Geralt’s expression, and everything clicked into place.</p><p>Geralt, after all, was as easy to read for Jaskier as large text in a picture book would be. So while Jaskier had never seen the expression on Geralt’s face before, he knew what it meant immediately. Geralt loved Yennefer. And, as Jaskier stared, he saw Geralt give Yen a small smile and say in that deep rumble of his, “Strange, I don’t feel any different.”</p><p>Jaskier turned and ran for the backdoor before he saw anymore. He ignored the tears starting to stream down his face, and the sobs tearing themselves out of his already hoarse throat.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. Chapter 16</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Can y’all tell I haven’t written since high school yet<br/>Also thank you guys for the comments, I super appreciate it :D I should point out that I’ve not had a single original idea while writing this story; I literally just flipped the outcomes from the Last Wish story and the djinn quest in the Witcher 3, which becomes more obvious in this chapter thanks to Geralt. Most, if not all, of the content of this story can be found in the show or game lmfao, wanna make it extra clear that I’m just vibing<br/>I'll talk about it in later chapter summaries but it has been an extra rough fucking time, so sorry about the massive delay.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Some mentions of horror, gore, but as a second-hand story told by Geralt.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Of course, things couldn’t be that easy. The only silver lining to the situation was that Geralt took long enough doing whatever it was he was doing with Yennefer that by the time he came back to Roach, Jaskier had recovered enough to make it appear like he hadn’t been crying at all. He waited for the witcher after he’d cleaned off Roach with his light jacket to the best of his ability, sitting against her engine as she stayed propped on her kickstand. He’d just throw the jacket out when he got back home to Novigrad; blood was hard to wash out, and it was well dried now. No point in trying. He sat there in the dirt, the sun beating down on his face, and waited. He didn’t have much of a choice, after all. Everyone had run from Rinde, and unless Jaskier felt like walking back to Novigrad, he’d have to wait for Geralt to get a ride back.</p><p>The sun was setting on the horizon when Geralt jolted Jaskier out of his light doze.</p><p>“Gods, Geralt, it’s you. I oughta put a bell around your neck,” Jaskier said, attempting lightheartedness. He quickly stood up and dusted himself off. The joke had come out somewhat flat, and Jaskier scanned Geralt’s face nervously to see if the witcher had actually picked up on it for once. </p><p>Of course, it was the one time Geralt seemed to notice and actually care. The witcher was gazing at Jaskier with concern. But he didn’t say anything. He just stared, silently.</p><p>It was freaking Jaskier out. Chuckling awkwardly, Jaskier lightly patted Roach’s seat. “Ha. Well, I can’t force you to wear a bell, of course. You just move so quietly, it startled me a bit. That’s all. Just a little joke.”</p><p>“You were crying earlier, after the djinn left. Are you hurt?” Geralt grunted.</p><p>“Oh, you, uh. Noticed that?”</p><p>Geralt gave a tiny smile and tilted his head at Jaskier. “Yeah.”</p><p>“Of course, enhanced senses. I get it. I just thought you’d be distracted, I suppose.” Jaskier sighed, leaning back against the seat of the motorcycle and crossing his arms. He tapped his elbow distractedly, looking everywhere except at Geralt for some sort of excuse. “I was just. . . overwhelmed. I mean, I almost died. That doesn’t happen a whole lot.”</p><p>“I tried to warn you it would.”</p><p>“Yes, I know. I remember.” Jaskier paused. “There was also the realization that you knew, and probably banged at one time, my boss, and are still close enough to know where she lives.”</p><p>Geralt’s eyebrows raised, and he finally looked away. Jaskier had learned the man couldn’t blush a long time ago. Apparently, in an effort to make the witcher less emotional, they’d added mutagens that made it physically impossible for him to express his emotions in certain ways, which was. . . awful, but nothing could be done about it now. However, if the man could blush, Jaskier imagined Geralt would be doing so right now. Jaskier felt a pang in his gut despite himself. He’d been right about Geralt and Yennefer. </p><p>“Or, rather, lived. That house looked pretty destroyed, and I’m assuming it wasn’t hers in the first place,” Jaskier continued. “A lot of backstory you never bothered to tell me about that I had to process very quickly didn’t help. I’m still confused about the link.”</p><p>“Link?”</p><p>“The wish Yen made, about this magical bond or whatever she wanted broken. If you guys are so in love, why’d she want it broken? Also, like. . . how’d you get bonded in the first place?” Jaskier thought about it as Geralt looked back at him and Roach, that little furrow forming that gave away the witcher’s confusion. “You said you’d fought a djinn, when we were arguing earlier. Does that have anything to do with it?”</p><p>“You think Yen and I are in love?”</p><p>Now Jaskier stared back at Geralt, seeing if the witcher was serious. When that little furrow didn’t go away, Jaskier rolled his eyes. “Yeah, of course I do. I’m not fucking blind, Geralt.”</p><p>Geralt blinked, frowning a little. “We’re. . . we’re not.”</p><p>“Sure, dude.”</p><p>“No, I’m. . . I do love Yen, but not. Not like that,” Geralt said. Jaskier felt bad suddenly, watching Geralt struggle with talking about this. He also hated how much hope he felt when he heard Geralt say that. “We were. . . talking about it, after her wish. After you left.”</p><p>“Really? That’s why you took so long to get back here?”</p><p>“I had to help her clean up.”</p><p>“And did you clean up before or after you had what I can only assume was friendly sex? I’m guessing after.”</p><p>Geralt glared, but the normal glare, with no real heat behind it. Jaskier never wanted to be on the receiving end of Geralt’s anger again. He didn’t reply, though, and Jaskier’s hope vanished as quickly as it’d appeared. So, it was that kind of off again, on again sort of relationship Geralt and Yen had. Jaskier supposed that made sense; being alive for as long as Geralt and Yen were had to have weird effects on relationships, especially romantic ones.</p><p>“Whatever. It doesn’t matter. Let’s get back to Novigrad, I want to take a proper nap in a proper bed,” Jaskier sighed, turning to the motorcycle. “No sidecar, and I’m guessing you don’t want me to drive?”</p><p>“You cleaned her.”</p><p>Jaskier turned to see Geralt staring at Roach. “Uh. Yeah? I was sort of drooling and bleeding all over her while you were driving like a madman to get me here. And then you took forever to come back, so I figured I’d, you know. Try to get some of it off. Especially off of the leather. Blood stains real bad, you know.”</p><p>“It’ll stain your jacket just as badly, though.”</p><p>“Yeah, well. I can buy a new jacket.”</p><p>“I’m sorry.”</p><p>That gave Jaskier pause. For as long as he’d known Geralt, he didn’t think he’d ever heard the witcher apologize to him. He saved apologies for those who had lost loved ones to monsters he hadn’t killed in time, or whose property he’d accidentally damaged while killing said monsters.</p><p>“What are you sorry for, Geralt?” Jaskier asked instead. There were a lot of things to be sorry for, Jaskier thought. Was this meant to be an apology for all of them? A lot had happened today, and Jaskier felt overall, he’d gotten the short end of the stick. If this was meant to be the apology for all of that, it wouldn’t be enough.</p><p>Geralt really surprised Jaskier with his answer. “That you ruined your jacket.”</p><p>Jaskier tried not to openly gape, his arms tensing around himself. “I-- what? Why are you so concerned about my jacket? That’s, like, lowest on the totem pole of shit I’m worried about right now.”</p><p>The little furrow returned. “Because you. . . you like your clothes.”</p><p>Jaskier raised an eyebrow in disbelief. “Well, apology accepted, I suppose. Anyone likes their own clothes better than you do yours, Geralt. Besides, I’ve been meaning to visit a friend for a while, I can just buy a new one from him. It’s really not that big a deal.”</p><p>Geralt shrugged. “Appreciate it.”</p><p>“Yeah, okay.” Jaskier looked, and saw they’d been standing there for so long, the sun was nearly gone, just a red line on the horizon. “We should get going."</p><p>Riding Roach for the second time was a lot easier than the first time, probably because Jaskier wasn't choking to death. The most challenging thing was trying not to fall asleep. The way back to Novigrad was noticeably calmer; Geralt was taking the highway and only going ten above the speed limit. Compared to the backroads and speeds exceeding 100 mph at all times, it was slow. Geralt also drove with the headlight off. Of course, Jaskier wasn’t worried about that; the road was clear, as it was a weekday and next to no one was travelling, and he knew the witcher could see perfectly fine.</p><p>Before they’d taken off, Jaskier had insisted on Geralt changing his blood-soaked shirt. If they got pulled over, it wouldn’t look good, and also Jaskier didn’t want to be pressed against what was essentially a slab of dried blood the entire ride back to Novigrad. As Geralt had retrieved a change of clothes out of the little storage unit in Roach, Jaskier spied the water bottle he’d gotten Geralt last year, and felt a spark of happiness. He’d kept it.</p><p>Now, he felt Geralt tap his arms, which were looped around the witcher’s waist to hang on. </p><p>“‘M awake,” Jaskier mumbled, but he sat up and stretched as much as he could, feeling the wind whip by his face before planting it back against Geralt’s back. “Hands on the handlebars, hon.”</p><p>“Are you hungry?” He heard the witcher rumble. The vibrations and the witcher’s steady breathing were too calming against his face, despite the high speed of the motorcycle.</p><p>“Mmm. Oh, gods, yeah, I guess I haven’t really eaten today,” Jaskier replied, yawning against Geralt’s shoulder blade. He’d had a handful of cereal this morning before he’d filled that flask with vodka, so he’d feel less guilty about it, but that had been it, all day. Of course, now he was thinking about it, his stomach started aching and gurgling.</p><p>To Jaskier’s surprise, Geralt pulled off onto an exit and stopped them at a burger joint. In all of their travels, Jaskier couldn’t remember a single time Geralt had stopped at any sort of fast food place. Jaskier hadn’t even asked this time; normally, especially on boring, longer trips in the sidecar, he wheedled and pleaded for Geralt to stop at one, and never got his wish.</p><p>His surprise deepened when Geralt paid for his food.</p><p>“Why, Geralt, I should almost get killed more often, and I would’ve done so sooner if I’d known I’d get treated like this,” Jaskier murmured around his mouthful of fries.</p><p>Geralt frowned. “Please don’t.”</p><p>“I won’t, I won’t, the experience is not worth it.” Jaskier chuckled, then quickly finished off the large burger Geralt had gotten him. That had to be a record time for him, normally he was a fairly slow eater.</p><p>“It’s,” Geralt started, and just as suddenly stopped. The witcher looked a bit absurd, shifting uncomfortably in the tiny plastic chair.</p><p>“It’s. . . what?” Jaskier asked. He’d eaten a bit much, and had no room left for about half the fries. He silently offered the carton to Geralt.</p><p>Geralt took it and slowly began eating them, relaxing slightly in the chair. “Never mind,” he grumbled, continuing to sullenly eat fries.</p><p>“No, I want to know. Go on, Geralt, day of firsts, do as I ask for once. Oh, you can have the rest of this, too,” Jaskier said, pushing about three-fourths of his massive milkshake at the witcher.</p><p>“Hmm.” Geralt accepted the milkshake, and Jaskier shook his head as Geralt dipped the fries in the milkshake before eating them. “I was. . . thinking. You didn’t know about me. And Yen, I mean.”</p><p>“Yeah, you’re right. I guess it’s not really my business, but you know. Those are normally things friends tell each other.”</p><p>“Right. Friends.” Geralt chewed slowly around a mouthful of milkshake and fries. It was a nice thing to see. Last year, early in their friendship, or whatever relationship it was, Jaskier doubted Geralt would have accepted the food at all, preferring instead to starve, apparently. The bit of softness suited Geralt; made his jaw look less like a knife’s edge and more like a jaw, underneath the beard, and added a volume to his body that hadn’t been there before. He looked less like a corpse, Jaskier supposed. </p><p>Jaskier was shaken out of this train of thought when Geralt hesitatingly asked, “Would you like to hear about it? When I first met Yen?”</p><p>“Uh. Yeah, gods, Geralt, of course! I’d love to hear about it,” Jaskier replied, leaning forward, attention suddenly and completely focused on Geralt now.</p><p>Geralt was staring very determinedly at the table legs, dipping one lukewarm fry at a time into the melting milkshake before eating it. Jaskier grew a bit impatient, but knew better than to try and push Geralt. Despite what others may think, he knew how to listen. And his patience was rewarded; Geralt started to talk.</p><p>“It was random. If I hadn’t happened upon that tiny little fishing village in Cidaris, not too far south from here, I wouldn’t have met Yen then. I’d recently completed a contract on a small group of nekkers, and got maybe 10 crowns out of it. Of course, next to no one would hire me, so I took what I could get.” Geralt sighed through his nose, and Jaskier’s chest tightened. “I was going to catch a fish so I could eat that day when the fishing town exploded. I ran back, and I saw half a ship had landed right in the middle of the town. A large ship, like a Nilfgaardian royal longboat. Everyone that had been on the boat was dead.</p><p>“The village was in a panic, because not only had half a giant ship come from nowhere and crushed several people, there was a djinn, furious, surrounding the ship. I figured, if I stopped the djinn, then the people might be grateful and pay me.” Geralt gave a little shrug. “I was younger, stupider. Hadn’t learned yet what was right for me to do. So I jumped in and started fighting the djinn. I hadn’t realized yet that there was a sorceress there, trying to harness all of the djinn’s power for herself.”</p><p>“That was Yen?”</p><p>“Yes. And, while what she’d been trying to do would never have worked, me fighting the djinn and further pissing it off didn’t make matters better. All of the forces on the continent could never kill a djinn; only subdue it. I just made it angrier. It started to destroy everything, the town, the surrounding landscape, and as I kept trying to kill it, it just grew bigger and more powerful, to the point it could’ve started threatening the nearby city Caelf. If it wasn’t for Yen, it might have. She managed to trap it similarly to how she trapped the djinn you saw today, only she didn’t have the seal. </p><p>“Without the seal, truly trapping a djinn is impossible. She just managed to localize all of its power onto herself. But she would die eventually, and the djinn would just wreak more havoc afterwards. By then, I’d realized my mistake. </p><p>“I ran onto the ship to find the seal, and found it. I threatened to shatter the seal. While it wouldn’t kill the djinn, or even decrease its power at all, it would make it exponentially harder for the djinn to go back to its home, as the seal needs to be complete in order to fulfill the wishes, or completely vaporized to release the magic of it and free the djinn.”</p><p>Jaskier thought back to the white dust powdering Yen’s hands after the djinn had disappeared. So, that had been the vaporized seal; the djinn had been freed. </p><p>“I bargained with it, while Yen was caught in its power. I made it give me the wishes,” Geralt explained. “I wished for the djinn to get rid of the boat. Then I wished for Yen, to bind her life to mine, so the djinn couldn’t kill her like it wanted to. Then I wished the djinn free. And then it was gone, and Yen was still alive.”</p><p>“So, Yen didn’t have a say in this bond? That could explain why she didn’t want it,” Jaskier muttered, mostly thinking out loud to himself.</p><p>“True. She told me. . . about something else, something that may have been affected by that bond, as well, that she wanted gone.” Geralt shifted, and Jaskier swore he saw guilt pass across the witcher’s face, but he didn’t elaborate.</p><p>“Are you, uh, gonna tell me about it?” Jaskier asked.</p><p>“No. It’s. . . too much,” Geralt eventually said.</p><p>Jaskier was near bursting to know, but Geralt had already said more in this one instance than the man usually said in one month total. And it was a story, which was far more than what Jaskier got when he actually asked for a story. And unprompted, Jaskier hadn’t even asked. He decided he’d ignore the fact that he couldn’t measure up to Yen at all now. Jaskier couldn’t even imagine a young Geralt. What chance did he have?</p><p>“That’s alright. Thanks for telling me, dear.” Jaskier looked around the table, and saw that Geralt had somehow managed to demolish the rest of Jaskier’s meal while he’d been telling his story. “Well, it’s late and we’re done eating, best get back on the road, huh?”</p><p>Geralt just nodded, and wordlessly led Jaskier back out to Roach.</p><p>It was fairly late by the time they got back to Novigrad. Geralt steered Roach to a stop in front of Jaskier’s apartment complex, quickly cutting the engine and setting the kickstand. Jaskier yawned, reluctantly letting go of Geralt’s waist to stretch before sliding off of the seat. He almost fell over, legs a bit like jelly after being locked in one position for so long, but strong arms caught him.</p><p>“Mm. Thanks, dear,” Jaskier slurred around another yawn. He’d deny it later, but Jaskier cried out in sudden surprise as Geralt lifted the other man over his shoulder, one arm around Jaskier’s thighs. Jaskier accepted the quick change of view, though, and gladly let himself be carried. It was a nice view, after all, and he hadn’t seen Geralt’s ass so up close and working in so long. It wasn’t until Geralt carried Jaskier into his little studio and gently maneuvered him into a bridal carry that Jaskier began to wonder if Geralt had been apologizing in his own way.</p><p>The witcher set Jaskier gently down on the bed, then set about taking off Jaskier’s shoes.</p><p>“I ‘ccept it,” Jaskier muttered, starting to curl into a pillow.</p><p>“Hmm?” Geralt tossed one shoe near the doorway, and started working on the other shoe.</p><p>“You’re apologizing, aren’tcha? You don’t do this for me,” Jaskier tried to explain. He was so tired.</p><p>The little forehead crease appeared, and Jaskier felt his heart melting into a puddle; the first time it had this year. It was tinged bittersweet with the recent realization that Geralt would never feel the same way. </p><p>Geralt didn’t reply to what Jaskier said, just pulling up the blanket around Jaskier’s curled frame. “Can I get you anything? Water, maybe?”</p><p>“You asked this morning if I was angry. ‘Fore the djinn bullshit,” Jaskier slurred.</p><p>Geralt sighed, and nodded. He sat on the edge of the bed, and the springs creaked a bit under the added weight. Jaskier curled a bit more around the witcher, craving closeness.</p><p>“D’you really not know what I was angry ‘bout?”</p><p>There was a pause, and the little forehead crease deepened as Geralt clearly thought about it. Then he patted Jaskier’s shoulder above the blanket. “No. I thought you were drunk, you smelled of alcohol.”</p><p>“I wasn’t drunk.” Jaskier sighed deeply through his nose, and cuddled into the blankets. Geralt didn’t know why. That was fine. It was a misunderstanding. “It doesn’t matter now. ‘S okay.”</p><p>“You sure?” Geralt was frowning now.</p><p>Jaskier made a show of slowly nodding, as much as he could, before yawning again. “Sure.” He snuggled into the blankets. “G’night, Ger.”</p><p>He wasn’t sure, but maybe Geralt said it back as Jaskier drifted off, the witcher’s hand still on his shoulder.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. Chapter 17</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Full disclosure I have no fucking clue how to start and run a business<br/>Also some of my personal headcannons, particularly about Geralt, snuck into this chapter. To keep going with this disclosure I uhhh project onto Geralt a possibly unhealthy amount, so if he acts OOC I'm sorry, it's because I wrote him to act like I do more often than not.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Ciri cleans, some innuendos, but nothing serious. Oh some cursing I guess</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Geralt wasn’t there in the morning when Jaskier woke. And then Jaskier felt stupid for being disappointed in that.</p><p>Something had changed. While Geralt was back, and they had sort of reconciled, Jaskier was now sure he was never going to get what he wanted from Geralt. It wasn’t anyone’s fault, and especially not Geralt’s; Jaskier just had to move on. And move on he would.</p><p>He decided he’d work with Zoltan and try to refurnish the Rosemary and Thyme into a sort of cabaret-slash-inn, sort of like the Kingfisher was. The building was big enough for it, after all. </p><p>It turned out to be a huge project; much bigger than Jaskier had thought it would end up being. Just cleaning the building was a pain in the ass. Zoltan, as much as Jaskier loved the dwarf, was not much help in this particular task. The place had clearly been built for human people, and therefore, the dwarf was unable to reach a lot of the surfaces besides the floor that needed cleaning. Zoltan ended up finagling most of the legal stuff with Regis, making sure they would be able to open without worry about the guard or, gods forbid, the fucking church. </p><p>However, that left most of the grunt work to Jaskier. </p><p>Jaskier was fairly well built, on par with Geralt, actually; most of the witcher’s wardrobe probably consisted of a fair amount of Jaskier’s more bland clothes, at this point. He’d found this out last year, during one of their road trips, when Jaskier had needed a change of clothes after some peasant got shit on the only set he’d brought. To Jaskier’s delight and Geralt’s disbelief, it was practically a perfect fit, if a little loose in the shoulders. It made shopping for clothes for Geralt easy, anyway. </p><p>But that was off track. Although Jaskier was no twink, he also spent most of his time in a hospital or performing. Jaskier had calluses on his hands only for his beloved lute, not for heavy labor. After he’d swept half of the ground floor and found he was exhausted, he realized he’d need some help just getting the place ready for refurbishing. </p><p>Priscilla was in much the same predicament as Jaskier, with her delicate, pretty frame and similarly guitar-callused hands. She would be of little help in the actual physical labor portion of refurbishment. And Jaskier didn’t feel super comfortable asking any of his other friends to help, either.</p><p>The answer to his predicament hit him suddenly while at work, as Ciri tapped away at her keyboard, evidently working on something.</p><p>“Hey, Ciri, are you working full time right now?” Jaskier asked.</p><p>“I’m not, though I sort of wish I was. A lot of scribes sign on as full time over the summer, but there were already too many, so I only work, like, two shifts a week,” Ciri replied, still typing away. Jaskier, ever nosy, subtly peeked around the corner of the desk to see if Ciri was in a chart. She was not.</p><p>“What’re you working on?” Jaskier asked.</p><p>“School stuff.”</p><p>“What, like, summer school? Damn, you’re really working yourself to the bone.”</p><p>“Yeah, well, high expectations and all that,” Ciri sighed. “I’m only taking two classes, at least, and they’re both online, so it’s not too bad. One of them’s medical terminology, so it’s a bit of a breeze.”</p><p>“Ah, that’s nice. Anyway, I have a proposition for you,” Jaskier said, glancing at Ciri to gauge her reaction.</p><p>“Okay. Does this have to do with Yen at all?”</p><p>Jaskier paused. He’d gotten so caught up with the Rosemary and Thyme he’d really forgotten that he’d been part of Yen’s house getting fucking obliterated, not so long ago. How much of that did Ciri know about? Also, he still didn’t know what her relationship to Geralt was. It wasn’t important, not really, but still. “No, it’s nothing to do with Yen, don’t worry. It’s more a job opportunity,” Jaskier eventually responded.</p><p>The way Ciri looked at him, she knew he’d been involved in the destruction of Yen’s house. However, she didn’t bring it up. “Do tell,” she simply said instead.</p><p>And that was how he found himself outside of the now somewhat decrepit brothel with Ciri. He was happy to see she took after Yen more than the witchers in terms of fashion, though he hoped her clothes wouldn’t be destroyed while cleaning. At least there were utilities running to the building, now, so they’d have air conditioning while they worked.</p><p>“You know you don’t have to pay me,” Ciri said, staring at the building.</p><p>Jaskier turned to look at Ciri in disbelief. “Of course I do, unpaid labor in this day and age? You think I’m some sort of criminal?”</p><p>Ciri snorted and shook her head, but then shrugged. “Hey, I’ll take your money.”</p><p>“Damn right you will. Come on, cleaning supplies are inside already. I want to get the ground floor spick and span today.”</p><p>It was mostly quiet while they worked. Jaskier let Ciri play most of her own music over his portable speakers, and somewhat surprisingly, Ciri listened primarily to heavy metal. Jaskier worked mostly on the bar while Ciri did basically every other inch of the ground floor. The most work she did was on the stage, and it was gleaming by the time they broke for lunch, Jaskier ordering some sandwiches and soda on his phone for delivery.</p><p>“So, written any new songs recently?” Ciri asked around a mouthful of sandwich. She’d turned down the speakers to background noise, so Jaskier could hear her talk normally instead of having to shout.</p><p>“I have been, yes. I know it’s been a while since I’ve performed, now,” Jaskier admitted.</p><p>“Yeah, or uploaded any new songs. Priscilla’s wonderful, but I like hearing your stuff too, you know.”</p><p>“Well, thank you, Ciri, I appreciate it.”</p><p>“If I let you keep your money, can I hear the song you’re working on?”</p><p>Jaskier glanced at Ciri to see she was pouting at him with her wide, green eyes. He looked away and chewed thoughtfully on his sandwich. “Take the money and spend it on something better,” he eventually replied.</p><p>Ciri scoffed. “Well, whatever. Maybe I can help Geralt buy a new phone.”</p><p>Jaskier choked on his drink, and peered at a now concerned Ciri through teary eyes. “You-- you--”</p><p>“I what, Jaskier? Are you okay?”</p><p>Jaskier hacked quickly, then cleared his throat a couple times. “You know Geralt?”</p><p>Ciri stared in disbelief. “. . . Are you being serious right now?”</p><p>“Yes? Of course I am!”</p><p>Ciri scoffed and put her head in her hands. “I can’t believe Yen was right,” she muttered.</p><p>“What was that?”</p><p>“Nothing.” Ciri raised her head from her hands and rolled her eyes so hard her head travelled with the movement. “Jaskier, Geralt’s, like. My adoptive dad.”</p><p>Oh. Adoption. Duh.</p><p>Ciri looked unimpressed at Jaskier’s undoubtedly stunned face. “You’ve gotta be kidding me. You didn’t know I knew Geralt at all, let alone that?”</p><p>“I didn’t know--”</p><p>“I refer to all the other witchers as ‘uncle,’ and you didn’t know? You couldn’t even guess?”</p><p>“Of course I guessed!” Somewhat wrongly, but it wasn’t important now. “I just didn't know, and you know what they say about assuming. Also, what happened to Geralt’s phone?”</p><p>“Lambert lost it for Geralt over the winter. He stole it, they fought, it fell out of a tower, and Geralt could never find it. Geralt losing his damn phone happens, like, at least once every year, to be honest.”</p><p>And that made more sense for Geralt rarely, if ever, using his phone. He barely had one half the time. But he could have visited Jaskier’s apartment, Geralt knew where he lived. Even though his apartment building was locked unless you had a key. And Jaskier could’ve been gone when Geralt came to check up. . .</p><p>Jaskier suddenly felt dumb as hell. The whole thing really had been a misunderstanding, on both of their parts. He had no real reason to be angry.</p><p>And it must’ve been showing on his face, cause Ciri was suddenly smiling way too knowingly at Jaskier. “For the record, Geralt feels really bad about whatever the hell happened at Yen’s house. Which, by the way, neither of them are telling me about.”</p><p>“Really?” That broke Jaskier out of his thoughts a bit. “They tell you why not?”</p><p>“Of course not. But, for you keeping your money, would that let me know about what happened?”</p><p>“Why, Ciri, you can know the story for free as far as I’m concerned. I have no clue why either of them wouldn’t tell you about what happened.”</p><p>“I know there was a djinn involved, and something bad must’ve happened to you, cause Geralt always looks guilty when I bring you up now.”</p><p>“You guys talk about me?”</p><p>“Uh, yeah? Oh, dude, you’re Lambert’s and Eskel’s favorite thing to tease Geralt about now,” Ciri laughed.</p><p>Jaskier was very briefly stunned into silence by this news. “But, like. . . why?”</p><p>“You’re, like, the polar opposite of Geralt, if you haven’t noticed, Jask,” Ciri snorted in reply, quickly finishing her sandwich, balling up the wrapper, and throwing it in the open trash can across the room without looking.</p><p>“Nice throw.”</p><p>“Thanks.”</p><p>“Anyway, you’re right, I suppose. They’re teasing him for just, like, hanging out with me?”</p><p>“Yeah. And the fact he lets you sing about him.”</p><p>“Ah, yeah, I suppose I can see that. ‘Specially from Lambert.” Jaskier thoughtfully finished off his sandwich as Ciri giggled, clearly thinking about Lambert teasing Geralt. “Well, anyways. You wanna hear the story of Geralt, Yen, the djinn, and how I almost died?”</p><p>Ciri’s jaw dropped. “Oh my gods, I didn’t realize you’d almost died. Please tell.”</p><p>And so Jaskier told Ciri most things; he told her about how he’d been angry Geralt hadn’t been talking to him and he’d done alcohol about it, much to his current chagrin. He’d confronted a tired Geralt at the lake, they’d fought over the djinn, and then the djinn attacked Jaskier out of. . . anger, he supposed. Geralt had driven like a madman to the Scoia’tael, who couldn’t do much but point them to Rinde, which Geralt once again drove like a madman to. Once there, Geralt knocked out the guards, one involuntary and the other not so much, then escorted a dying Jaskier to Yen’s house. Once there, Yen magically excised the tumor and healed Jaskier while Geralt laid waste to the church that must’ve been hunting Yen down. Then Geralt must’ve summoned the djinn, and Jaskier saved the day by grabbing the seal, freeing Geralt from the djinn’s attack, and getting the seal to Yen afterwards so she could trap it and make one wish.</p><p>“Okay, well, I doubt some of that stuff towards the end was super accurate, but whatever. What was Yen’s wish?” Ciri asked, her attention fully on Jaskier now.</p><p>Jaskier straightened indignantly. “Excuse me, all of that was super accurate, thank you very much.” He ignored Ciri’s snort, much like he would’ve for Geralt. “As for Yen’s wish, well, even I don’t fully understand it. She wanted some sort of bond broken.”</p><p>Ciri’s eyebrows shot up in obvious surprise. “The djinn bond between her and Geralt?”</p><p>“Yes, that one exactly, I suppose. It seems everyone’s surprised by this except Yen.”</p><p>“I’m mostly surprised she used a wish to do that. I thought she’d want. . . other things, I guess.” Ciri shrugged, looking out of a nearby window. It was a beautiful, sunny summer day, daylight illuminating the otherwise dull, worn brick roads of Novigrad. “Well, I understand why Yen didn’t tell me about the whole thing, I guess.”</p><p>“What? Why? Oh, Ciri, you have to tell me,” Jaskier pleaded.</p><p>Ciri sighed heavily, raspberrying her lips briefly and making a face at the window. “Shit. Fine, but you didn’t hear it, and especially not from me, got it? Particularly if it’s Yen.”</p><p>“My lips are sealed.”</p><p>Ciri gave Jaskier a look, but she shrugged and continued. “Well, Geralt and Yen have a long and somewhat romantic history together, that started with the creation of that initial bond. And Yen, especially, has always wondered if that bond is the only reason why she and Geralt have been, you know. An item,” Ciri explained.</p><p>Jaskier stared at the floor, thoughts racing. </p><p>“Based on their reactions, I’m guessing it, uh. Didn’t turn out well for them.” Ciri sighed, looking a bit regretful. “I guess that explains why Geralt’s not talking about it, either. Damn, I feel kinda bad for pushing to know, now. I just thought. . . it’d be something else.”</p><p>“I mean, they both mean a lot to you. I don’t think it’s unreasonable for you to be curious since it obviously affected them a lot. And, of course, thanks for your concern.”</p><p> </p><p>“Ha, ha, of course I’m glad you’re okay. But what happened after?”</p><p>“What do you mean?”</p><p>“You know, after Yen made her wish, and I’m assuming it worked and the djinn went free. What about you, did anything happen?”</p><p>“Oh, Geralt just. . . took me back to Novigrad.”</p><p>Ciri raised an eyebrow. “Really? That’s all that happened?”</p><p>“I’m not entirely sure what you’re implying, dear Ciri. Not everything is epic, it just took a while to get back to Novigrad from Rinde.”</p><p>“Geralt wasn’t back until, like, four in the morning. He actually slept when he got back, too. There’s no way that’s all that happened.”</p><p>Jaskier shrugged, frowning. She was right, it didn’t take that long. They’d left at sundown, around 8 PM, but taking the highway at the speed Geralt had been going would only take around 3 hours, tops. Sure, they’d taken that stop, but they couldn’t have been there for more than an hour. So why the hell did Geralt not get home until four in the morning? “To be honest, Ciri, I have no idea why that happened. Is he possibly allergic to any foods? We did stop at a burger joint briefly, perhaps he ate something that disagreed with him.”</p><p>“Nah, they change a witcher’s genome so they could digest even raw meat without problem.”</p><p>“Well then, I really don’t know. We left around eight, and got back around midnight, I believe.” Jaskier suddenly remembered he’d wondered why his clothes had been folded and the sink had been shiny and cleared of all dirty dishes, but had dismissed it at the time. “Actually, you know what, I think he cleaned up my fucking apartment.”</p><p>Ciri’s eyebrows shot up to her hairline before she abruptly burst into laughter.</p><p>Jaskier nervously joined her. “I mean, it’s not like my apartment is filthy, I think he just, you know, washed the dishes and stuff.”</p><p>Ciri gasped for breath around her laughter, hugging her abdomen. “Oh gods, Jaskier,” she chortled. “That’s impossible, Geralt never cleans.”</p><p>“What are you talking about?”</p><p>“He’s, like, the definition of gross, Jaskier. If you’ve ever wondered what B.O. smells like you just need to approach him. He uses dish soap to bathe himself, for fuck’s sake,” Ciri explained.</p><p>Jaskier thought about that, briefly, because now that he thought about it, it had to have been Geralt that had cleaned up his apartment that night. It definitely hadn’t been Jaskier, and somehow his door had been locked when he’d woken up that next morning. And before it had been a regular thing for Jaskier to bathe Geralt, the witcher had been using that stupid dish soap to wash. Ciri was right, Geralt hadn’t been taking care of himself all that well. And when he’d seen him that fateful morning of the djinn attack, Geralt hadn’t looked great either.</p><p>Ciri was staring at Jaskier strangely when he suddenly remembered she was sitting next to him. </p><p>“Well, we’d better get back to cleaning, I suppose. Floors need a lot of work, and I’ll start on the bathrooms on the ground floor,” Jaskier said, standing quickly and brushing his hands off on his pants.</p><p>Ciri was still giving Jaskier that strange look, but she didn’t say anything. She just turned the speakers back up and grabbed a mop.</p><p>A couple hours later, and Jaskier almost had a heart attack.</p><p>He’d forgotten how quiet Geralt could be unintentionally. When Geralt was actually trying to be quiet, even in full armor, the witcher didn’t make any sound. Normally, if you concentrated, you could usually hear the witcher’s slight footsteps, or the creak of a door as he opened it. With metal music blaring, though, the only way Jaskier could’ve heard Geralt coming was if the witcher had literally stomped inside. And why would the witcher stomp inside?</p><p>“I swear to god, Geralt, this is why you need a bell,” Jaskier sighed, after he definitely didn’t shriek in fear.</p><p>He couldn’t hear what Geralt replied with, as the music was still too loud and Geralt’s deep rumble blended too well with the pounding bass, but the little confused furrow appeared again. Ah, Jaskier’d missed that furrow.</p><p>“I can’t hear you!” Jaskier shouted. </p><p>Geralt leaned back a little and frowned. </p><p>“Are you here for Ciri?”</p><p>Geralt nodded, the furrow smoothing out and a small smile appearing.</p><p>“I-- here, just give me a sec,” Jaskier said, putting down the rag he’d been using to clean the coat storage near the door and leading Geralt further indoors. Ciri, strangely enough, was nowhere to be found near the bar. A kernel of anxiety sprouted in Jaskier’s mind; did something happen to her while he’d been busy, and he hadn’t heard? But that was ridiculous. Jaskier slapped the speakers off and then yelled, “Ciri, Geralt’s here for you!”</p><p>“What, like, emotionally?” Ciri scoffed, appearing around a corner with mop in hand. Then her eyes landed on Geralt and widened. Jaskier couldn’t read lips, but he’d seen “oh, shit,” enough to know when someone was mouthing it.</p><p>“I’m guessing. . . Ciri was meant to be somewhere else?” Jaskier hesitantly said as Ciri’s eyes darted around the room and Geralt just crossed his arms.</p><p>“Yes. She was meant to be studying with one of her uncles. Don’t you remember?” Geralt asked Ciri, sarcasm dripping from his voice.</p><p>“Oh, but studying with uncle Vesemir is so boring!” Ciri whined, gesturing with the mop in frustration.</p><p>“Wait, Geralt, I. . . haven’t had the chance to tell you about this place, how’d you know we were here? Obviously Ciri didn’t tell you,” Jaskier said.</p><p>Geralt shrugged. “Tracked her here. She hasn’t been training properly, so it was easy.”</p><p>“I wasn’t trying to hide from you, buttface,” Ciri pouted, arms crossed but still holding the mop in one hand. “It’s just, Vesemir started napping, and Jaskier said he’d pay me, and I was bored--”</p><p>“He offered to pay you? For what?”</p><p>“Helping to clean! Didn’t he tell you?”</p><p>“Tell me what?” Geralt asked, turning to face Jaskier.</p><p>Jaskier scoffed. “Well, I only just realized you were back in the city two weeks ago, Geralt, I didn’t exactly have time to tell you I inherited a brothel from Whoreson Sr. over the winter while you were gone, especially since you apparently don’t have a phone anymore.”</p><p>“Whoreson Sr.?”</p><p>“You know, Alonso Wiley.”</p><p>Geralt stared at Jaskier, eyebrows raised. “The crime lord? He died?”</p><p>“He was killed, but it’s not that important. The point is, I have this brothel now, and I neglected it all winter cause I didn’t know what to do with it, but I figured I’d, I don’t know, follow my dreams or something and remodel this place into a cabaret,” Jaskier said, crossing his arms and facing Geralt much like Ciri was now, minus the mop.</p><p>Geralt blinked slowly once, then turned back to Ciri. “And you asked him to pay you?”</p><p>“He offered to pay me, Geralt, gods. I’ve been trying to find ways to get him not to, since I know he’s your ‘travel buddy,’” Ciri replied mockingly, putting some of the most exaggerated air quotes Jaskier had seen around the words “travel buddy.”</p><p>Jaskier’s jaw dropped. “You refer to me as your travel buddy?”</p><p>“No, I--” Geralt sighed, one eyebrow twitching. “It’s one of the names Lambert uses for you. He has a lot. But not the point. Ciri, you know you should be studying, this information could save your life.”</p><p>“I know the difference between ghouls and alghouls already, I’ve read that book through like, three times,” Ciri groaned, head tipping back towards the ceiling. </p><p>Jaskier frowned at Geralt. “Wait, what? What kind of stuff is this? I thought Ciri was in summer school. Unless they teach electives about monsters, in which case that’s cool, wish they had that for me.”</p><p>“No, it’s. Jaskier, Ciri lives with a bunch of witchers.”</p><p>“Yeah, remember when I told you I ‘fence a lot?’” Ciri snorted before continuing, “I don’t do the sporting fence. I do witcher sword training.”</p><p>“Poorly,” Geralt muttered.</p><p>Jaskier’s thoughts somehow simultaneously ground to a halt and raced behind his eyes. “I’m. . . I’m not sure if I’m incredibly stupid, or just the most unobservant person on the planet.”</p><p>“I mean, it’s not as if I announce the fact I live with witchers. What with, you know, the church and everything,” Ciri said, patting Jaskier lightly on the shoulder. “And I’m better at sword fighting than most of the people in this city!”</p><p>“And you still feel the need to cheat against anything that’s not a dummy,” Geralt retorted.</p><p>“It’s not cheating, it’s using my resources!”</p><p>“It’s cheating.”</p><p>“How do you even cheat at sword fighting?” Jaskier accidentally thought out loud.</p><p>“Oh, I’ll show you someday, Jaskier, it’s quite fun to do,” Ciri quickly waved him off. “The point is, I’m actually wonderful at sword fighting, and I can prove it to you any day of the week, old man!” The last bit was shouted at Geralt. While Jaskier may not have caught it at the beginning of their relationship, even with the distance and time apart he could read the man unbelievably easily now. The sudden stillness of the witcher’s eyes and slight frown meant he was trying to hide something. But it wasn’t the time to push it; who knew if Geralt was angry at Jaskier now, though the witcher didn’t seem to be.</p><p>And then the witcher was dodging the mop Ciri jabbed at his head.</p><p>“And what will you tell Vesemir? I’m not gonna defend you,” Geralt said, completely unperturbed as Ciri giggled and set the mop against the counter.</p><p>“I’ll tell him I had a paying job, and it’s certainly not my fault he can’t stay awake long enough to finish his own lesson.”</p><p>“Tell him yourself. You’re done here,” Geralt grumbled.</p><p>There was a moment of silence, and then Ciri was exclaiming, “But I’m not done cleaning! You wouldn’t have me abandon Jask in his time of need!” at the same time Jaskier started pleading, “Oh, Geralt, but Ciri works so hard and I’m more than happy to pay her for her time here, I don’t want to clean this whole building by myself!”</p><p>Though Geralt gave his best impression of a world-weary man, Jaskier could see that it was just because Geralt’s resolve was crumbling. It was probably because of Ciri, and Jaskier couldn’t help but smile. The man really was so soft sometimes, and it was unbelievably adorable.</p><p>The witcher sighed, wrapping an arm around Ciri in a sort of half bear hug, as she’d started hanging onto his arm during her pleading. “Fine, you can finish up here today. Go. I’d like to talk to Jaskier for a bit, while I’m here, anyways.”</p><p>“Thank you, Geralt!” Ciri exclaimed, giggling and pecking his cheek briefly before picking up the mop and skipping away.</p><p>Jaskier waited until Ciri was a little ways away before sighing and looking at Geralt somewhat guiltily, for more reasons than one. “I’m sorry, man, if I’d known--”</p><p>“You couldn’t have known,” Geralt interrupted, but it wasn’t malicious. The witcher glanced around the Rosemary and Thyme with a raised eyebrow. “Wish I’d known about all this.”</p><p>“Well, it’s new to me, too, just got it over the winter while you were, uh, away.” Jaskier shrugged. “And Ciri told me Lambert broke your phone, so, no real way to contact each other, anyway.”</p><p>Geralt snorted. “Not so much broke as he tossed it out a twenty story tower.”</p><p>“Regardless, no way to contact each other. So, uh. . .” Jaskier sucked up his pride. “I’m sorry. About the whole djinn thing. I was angry at you for no reason, and I shouldn’t have grabbed the stupid thing or made the djinn mad. It was dumb.”</p><p>“Yeah,” Geralt agreed, and Jaskier wilted a bit. “But we’re still friends, Jaskier. It’s okay.”</p><p>“Oh, we’re friends?” Jaskier said, suddenly filled with relief. Geralt wasn’t angry at him, and things were okay.</p><p>The witcher shrugged. “Yeah, we’re friends. Don’t think I have a choice.”</p><p>“You’re damn right, you don’t,” Jaskier grinned, punching the witcher in the shoulder before wincing and shaking out his hand. Geralt hadn’t even flinched. “Well, anyway. You planning on getting a new phone?”</p><p>“Yes. I’ll text you when I get it.” Geralt scrunched his brow in thought. “This place is gross.”</p><p>“Well, it’s not that gross anymore. You should’ve seen it earlier,” Jaskier commented idly, looking around. It did look better, there wasn’t a thick layer of dust over everything, and the stage was gleaming after all of the work Ciri had put into it. He’d be sure to pay her fairly.</p><p>When Geralt just gave Jaskier a look, Jaskier crossed his arms defensively. “It is better! Look at that stage, you could see your reflection in the floor. And Ciri did that, you know, she’s quite a hard worker.”</p><p>“And what have you done?”</p><p>“I’ll have you know I’m also working very hard.”</p><p>“Really?”</p><p>“Yes, I have been! I’m just not as young as I used to be.”</p><p>“Oh, I thought you were in your thirties.”</p><p>“Late twenties, thank you very much,” Jaskier sniped back playfully. “And I don’t see you helping!”</p><p>“You’d ask a centuries-old man to help?”</p><p>“Oh please, Geralt, you’re plenty spry for five hundred and whatever.”</p><p>Geralt just chuckled a little. “Hmm, I missed you.” Jaskier hoped the sudden skipped heart beats hadn’t been heard by the witcher. “I have a counter proposal.”</p><p>“Do tell, because this place isn’t getting any cleaner with us just standing here.”</p><p>“In order to have Lambert pay off the phone, can I have him work here? Just to clean up. He doesn’t have the greatest customer service approach.”</p><p>“You’re right, I think Lambert would be the prickliest bartender in existence,” Jaskier giggled. “Yeah, of course, so long as he actually works.”</p><p>Geralt smiled a little at the thought of Lambert bartending. “He will. I was also wondering if you’d like to go clothes shopping tomorrow?”</p><p>Jaskier’s jaw dropped. “My gosh, was anyone recording that? Clothes shopping? This is a historic event! Geralt, the white wolf, asking me to go clothes shopping!”</p><p>Geralt rolled his eyes. “You buy me a shirt, I buy you a jacket. Sound good?”</p><p>“Yeah, sure thing. Meet in front of the notice board on Hierarch at, say, 1 PM?”</p><p>“That’s horribly late in the day, but fine.”</p><p>“You wake up at the fucking buttcrack of dawn every damn day, Geralt, you’re not a good judge for anything. Us humans that don’t have mutagens need sleep, believe it or not,” Jaskier replied, sticking his nose up in the air and jabbing a finger at the witcher’s chest.</p><p>Geralt smiled and tilted his head a little at Jaskier, who couldn’t help but grin back. “Very well. See you tomorrow.”</p><p>After Geralt left, Jaskier hit resume on the loud metal music. He got back to work with newfound vigor, a weight he hadn’t realized had been on his shoulders lifted, and hummed cheerily along to the angry metal man on the stereo. The ground floor finally looked manageable, and Jaskier paid Ciri handsomely much to her objections.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0018"><h2>18. Chapter 18</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Writing this during an overnight after working for like 7 days in a row as a part timer, big whoop. Anyway school sucks and they upped my depression meds wahoo. Also struggling with a real life romantic dilemma which is just peachy!!!! Too much shit happening. Reading all these comments you guys have been leaving is a huge help though, thank you &lt;3<br/>Also I meant to do this Wednesday but I literally woke up and my wifi was out, like completely. So I guess Fridays are the days now lmao</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Incredibly minor innuendos. Fluff so sweet you'll gag on it.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>7:23 AM</p><p>[+211155312685]: <em>This is Geralt.</em></p><p>Jaskier peered blearily at the phone in his hand. That had been fast, he vaguely thought as he yawned and sat up, blearily rubbing at his eyes. Sent at seven in the morning? Ugh. Only reason to be up that early would be walking home and getting ready for bed after an overnight shift or something. Yen knew better than to schedule him for any early morning shifts at this point. Quickly saving Geralt’s contact information, Jaskier texted back.</p><p>11:51 AM</p><p>[Jaskier]: <em>and this is your dearest friend jaskier! how are you this fine morning?</em></p><p>[Geralt💛]: <em>It’s almost noon.</em></p><p>[Jaskier]: <em>your point is???</em></p><p>[Geralt💛]: <em>. . . I’m fine.</em></p><p>[Jaskier]: <em>you text like a grandpa</em></p><p>Jaskier yawned again and decided he’d get ready for the day, or the remainder of it anyway, and set his phone aside to stand up and hunt for clothes. It was only noon; there was plenty of time to style his hair. And then he remembered the meeting was at one and not two, and he decided a slightly ruffled look tended to suit him better anyways.</p><p>On his way out the door, he checked his phone to see the time, and saw he had only ten minutes to run to Hierarch square as well as a text from Geralt.</p><p>11:56 AM</p><p>[Geralt💛]: <em>I’m more than old enough to be your grandpa.</em></p><p>12:27 PM</p><p>[Geralt💛]: <em>Lambert’s number is +21(115)539-8641. He’s available whenever the hell you want him to be.</em></p><p>Jaskier quickly entered Lambert’s contact information in his phone, making a mental note to text that witcher sometime later today, while speed walking as quickly as his legs would take him to Hierarch square. Being careful not to bump into people, Jaskier texted back.</p><p>12:53 PM</p><p>[Jaskier]: <em>old fucking man. would still tap that though</em></p><p>[Geralt💛]: <em>What the fuck are you talking about.</em></p><p>[Jaskier]: 👀</p><p>[Geralt💛]: <em>I don’t know what those mean. Are those eyes?</em></p><p>[Jaskier]: <em>yeah theyre eyes. doesn’t ciri or anyone text you emojis ever???</em></p><p>[Geralt💛]: <em>Not really. Ciri sends hearts sometimes.</em></p><p>[Jaskier]: <em>awwwww thats cute. ill send you heart emojis</em> 💖❤️💛</p><p>[Geralt💛]: 👀</p><p>[Jaskier]: <em>i thought you didnt know what those were</em></p><p>Right as Jaskier hit the send button, someone grabbed his collar, and he yelped and went reeling backwards. And then he was suddenly facing a white haired witcher.</p><p>“It means I see you,” Geralt deadpanned, letting go of Jaskier’s collar.</p><p>“It absolutely does not mean that,” Jaskier huffed, straightening his collar and brushing imaginary dust off of himself. He quickly stuck his phone back in his pocket.</p><p>Geralt did a head tilt and gave a smile. Jaskier wondered if his heart would ever not leap whenever Geralt did that. “It’s a pair of eyes, what else could it mean?”</p><p>“Ask Ciri, it’ll be a nice bonding experience for the two of you that doesn’t include hitting the other person,” Jaskier replied haughtily.</p><p>Geralt shook his head, but didn’t press Jaskier any further, which was good. To be honest, he’d have trouble explaining the use of emojis, as he barely knew himself what he meant by them half of the time. Instead, the conversation changed to where they were going to buy each other replacements for their respective ruined clothes items. In the end, they just ended up at a basic clothing store.</p><p>Somehow, Jaskier managed to convince Geralt to not let the other see the clothes until after they’d been bought, just as a fun surprise. They agreed only to take no more than a half hour choosing, then meet at the checkout counter.</p><p>Jaskier was not surprised to see Geralt take up the full thirty minutes while Jaskier was done after approximately two.</p><p>“Well? You show me first, you took so long deciding,” Jaskier said, trying not to vibrate out of the clothes he was already wearing in excitement. Not so much for what Geralt had chosen, but more for what Jaskier had bought. Geralt was too nice to throw it away outright; he’d keep it under his bed, probably, which was fine, so long as the witcher kept it.</p><p>Geralt looked about as bashful as Jaskier had ever seen him, which just lent to his excitement. </p><p>And then Jaskier’s mind went blank when Geralt pulled out an actual, beautiful-looking leather jacket.</p><p>His jaw dropped. “Geralt. . . What? How much did that cost?”</p><p>“It doesn’t matter. I figured it would be nice for you to have, since Roach’s sidecar was, er, lost over the winter. You’ll have to be riding with me on Roach for travels. This’ll help protect you. And I think it looks nice,” Geralt muttered, thrusting the jacket at Jaskier and staring at the floor.</p><p>Jaskier, for as often as he worked with words and people, was gaping like a fish, mind blank. The bag with Geralt’s gag gift in it, which now felt so stupid, dropped onto the floor next to his feet.</p><p>“I. . . I can’t take that,” Jaskier eventually gasped.</p><p>Geralt’s brow furrowed. “Is it the wrong size? I can go back and--”</p><p>“No! No, it’s-- I have to go back, it’s me, you don’t understand,” Jaskier blurted, grabbing the jacket before Geralt could stuff it back in his shopping bag to return. “I-- well, I thought, the vibe, I mean, we were, I thought we were joking, Geralt, this is-- oh, you--”</p><p>“Are you angry again?”</p><p>“No, well, yes, but not-- not at you, I-- oh, I have to return this shitty shirt I got for you, that’s what, at least buy you the same shirt you had before I vomited blood all over it--” And Jaskier picked up the bag with the gag shirt in it, face flaming red, and started to march away.</p><p>And then there was an arm in his way.</p><p>“Jaskier, let me see the shirt,” Geralt growled, staring intently at Jaskier.</p><p>Jaskier’s face flushed even more, and he clutched the bag with the gag shirt with both hands away from Geralt, moving to duck under the witcher’s arm. “No! No, I’m returning it, I only used five minutes of my time, I still have twenty five minutes left--”</p><p>“That’s not how the rules work.”</p><p>“I made the rules! Who’re you to tell me what’s the rules and what’s not?!”</p><p>“Just let me see the damn shirt.”</p><p>“No! No, it was a mistake, just let me--”</p><p>Jaskier yelped as Geralt twisted so quickly he didn’t notice it until the bag with the gag shirt was yanked out of his hands. His face was flaming as employees started more obviously shooting concerned looks their way. “Geralt, Geralt, dear, please, don’t--” Jaskier hissed, making a grab for the bag, but it was too late.</p><p>In Geralt’s hands was a bright pink tanktop with a cutesy unicorn printed across the chest.</p><p>“Oh my gods,” Jaskier muttered, slapping his hands over his face in shame. </p><p>When he looked back up, he expected Geralt would be angry, or at least confused. So when he saw the Witcher was chuckling at the shirt in his hand, Jaskier himself was confused.</p><p>“Can I keep this?” Geralt quietly asked.</p><p>Jaskier’s jaw dropped, and he laughed once. “Uh, I mean, yeah, if you want it I guess.” A pause. “Are you gonna wear it? Cause I’m gonna insist on taking pictures if--”</p><p>“No. I’m gonna gift it to Yen for Midsummer.”</p><p>Jaskier stared before bursting into laughter. “I’m sure she’ll love it, Geralt,” he chortled, rubbing his eyes a little and feeling the blood drain from his face. Geralt had his head tilted with that little smile, and Jaskier grinned back. “Of course, I’d still like to replace the shirt I ruined.”</p><p>“I couldn’t care less, Jaskier. I know how to get blood out of a shirt, and all my shirts are stained, anyway.”</p><p>Jaskier sighed, throwing up his hands. “Fine, you ridiculous man. Whatever you say, I suppose, if I don’t have to spend money it’s no loss.” And then he remembered he was holding the leather jacket Geralt had given him in his hand still. “And. . . really, thank you for this. It’s very thoughtful. But how did you lose the sidecar? I thought it stayed in Novigrad, you didn’t take it with you when you went to Kaer Morhen this winter.” They started to walk out of the store and through the streets of Novigrad, Geralt leading them wherever. </p><p>“It was left in an abandoned house in the middle of the Bits.”</p><p>“Oh, shit, someone stole it?”</p><p>“The church did. They’re not very sneaky.”</p><p>“Pompous assholes,” Jaskier muttered on instinct, and then quickly and covertly looked around. Geralt just smirked.</p><p>“I’ll need to take that jacket back. It won’t do any real protection as is; I want to add a rune to it.”</p><p>“Aww, Geralt, you really don’t have to. Armor runes are expensive as hell, and a leather jacket works fine.”</p><p>“I find them around, it’s not a big deal. Besides, don’t want it getting ruined on the first crash. I’ll give it back to you when we go on our first trip.”</p><p>“Is that a promise, witcher?” Jaskier asked, turning to look at Geralt with an eyebrow raised.</p><p>Geralt chuckled once, and Jaskier smiled widely. “Sure,” Geralt rumbled.</p><p>“Would you mind terribly if I added some color to it first? I can drop it off with Lambert when he cleans later today, or tomorrow. Solid black isn’t really my style.”</p><p>“I’d expect nothing less,” Geralt sighed.</p><p>It wouldn’t be until later that Jaskier realized he had a problem. See, he’d recolored black leather before, but it had been cheap leather he’d spray painted after deglazing. While it worked for a couple occasions, it ruined the leather and didn’t look so good on multiple wears. Geralt had clearly bought the jacket for Jaskier with the intention of Jaskier keeping it and rewearing it, and though Jaskier was no great expert on fabrics, the leather was clearly of great quality. Jaskier himself didn’t want to ruin it, and he was great at wearing clothes maybe three times maximum before never wearing them again. </p><p>But gods, wearing a solid black item all the time was a bore.</p><p>“Lambert, you wouldn’t happen to have any tips for recoloring black leather, would you?” Jaskier asked the surly witcher as he angrily swept the floor.</p><p>“Do I look like a fucking fashionista to you?” Lambert snapped, dumping dust in a nearby trash bag.</p><p>“If you tried at all, sure,” Jaskier idly replied, continuing to snap plastic letters out of the mold they were in. He’d bought several felt menu boards, heart set now on the bar idea. “You could model some Gucci if you tried, probably.”</p><p>“Oh, yeah, this face could win beauty competitions. Don’t be a dumbass.”</p><p>“I think your face is very handsome.”</p><p>“I don’t need you to patronize me while I’m cleaning your damn floors, doc.”</p><p>“Regardless, do you have any tips for recoloring back leather or not? Yes or no question.”</p><p>Lambert glared, whipping around and whacking the broom loudly against a support beam. “No. Contrary to popular belief, witchers don’t need to be every damn color of the rainbow while tracking monsters for the wildly ungrateful masses.”</p><p>Jaskier sighed, rolling his eyes and snapping an “F” off the mold. “Gods, just say the first word and leave it be.”</p><p>“You wanted me here, cleaning your stupid brothel, doc.”</p><p>“Geralt did cause you lost his phone.”</p><p>“Aw, yeah, I did do that,” Lambert grinned, taking a break briefly to lean against the handle of the broom. “Fun times at Kaer Morhen. When you’re stuck in a fucking ruin all winter, you gotta make fun somehow.”</p><p>“By breaking Geralt’s stuff?”</p><p>“I didn’t mean to toss it out the window, it just happened. I just wanted to read through his texts,” Lambert shrugged. “If you think about it, it’s really Geralt’s fault, he got mad first.”</p><p>“Probably because you stole his phone to read his texts.”</p><p>“Yeah, probably.” Lambert smirked, tilting the broom back and forth a little. “Well, whatever. There’s worse things I could be doing.”</p><p>And for all Lambert was a prick, he was also an admirably hard and quick worker. The ground floor was damn near spotless, with only the bathroom and a few closets left that still needed cleaning. Jaskier bought the witcher some dinner, which Lambert pretended not to be grateful for, and then they decided on a time tomorrow for Lambert to come back and continue cleaning.</p><p>In the meantime, if Jaskier speedwalked, he could make it somewhere else to see if he could solve his leather jacket dilemma. </p><p>And he made it to his dear friend Elihal’s shop just five minutes before closing, huffing so hard he could probably blow the damn shop down. He’d gotten out of shape over the winter. Breathing deeply and fixing his hair, he knocked on the door.</p><p>“You know, darling, it is a shop. You’re not really meant to knock,” Elihal answered the door, his perfectly drawn eyebrow raising in disdain.</p><p>“Fuck societal norms. And also I’m here for something more personal, anyway, figured it’d be more polite,” Jaskier grinned. “Your eye makeup today is beautifully done, by the way.”</p><p>“It always is,” the elven drag queen smiled back, opening the door wider for Jaskier to come in. “If you think complimenting my makeup is going to get you a discount, though, you have another thing coming. Man’s gotta eat.”</p><p>“I wouldn’t dream of doing such a thing!” Jaskier gasped, holding a hand to his chest in mock distress. </p><p>“Oh, just tell me why you’re here.”</p><p>“I’m here because you’re an incredibly wonderful friend of mine and I’d like to invite you to dinner and a show, held by yours, truly,” Jaskier replied haughtily, mind racing. The show part would be easy enough, as Jaskier had recently managed to procure a biweekly performance time at the Kingfisher. He’d just have to hope Elihal would like food from the Kingfisher.</p><p>“Is that all?”</p><p>“And. . . I’d like to see if you could recolor this for me,” Jaskier muttered guiltily, holding out the black leather jacket.</p><p>“Oh, my. That’ll be quite the job. When do you need it done?”</p><p>“Tomorrow.”</p><p>Elihal gave Jaskier a disbelieving look. “You’re joking.”</p><p>“Why? Is it impossible to do?”</p><p>Elihal scowled, taking the jacket and looking it over, feeling the texture of the leather. “Did you buy this today?”</p><p>“Another friend bought it for me.”</p><p>“Oh, so you want to keep it in good condition, then? Spray paint not going to work?”</p><p>“Spray paint never worked super well on blacks, anyway. I’ll pay you extra if you can get it done by tomorrow. Please?” Jaskier asked, pleading as much as he could with his facial expression and groveling a little. “Please please please, please? I know you can do it, please, you’re the only one I’d trust to do this! Ple-ease?”</p><p>“Gods, I heard you the first time,” Elihal rolled his eyes, smacking Jaskier on top of the head but giving the man a small smile. “Fine, but it will cost you extra.”</p><p>“You’re a gem, Elihal!”</p><p>“I know I am,” he muttered, reading the tag of the jacket. “Your friend who got this for you, it was as a gift?”</p><p>“Sort of. More of an unequal exchange, to be honest. I bought him a really cheap shirt, and he took it before I could return it for something better,” Jaskier admitted. “Why?”</p><p>“This jacket probably cost well over 150 crowns.”</p><p>Jaskier’s jaw dropped once more that day. “150--?!” That amount was easily more than Geralt made on a single job. His mind ground to a halt trying to process that.</p><p>“Yes, I’d estimate total value at around 200 crowns, though this brand can be bought cheaper at certain locations. Anyway, when you get around to picking your jaw up off of my floor, I’d suggest you thank him quite a bit. And recommend my service to him when I return this jacket, recolored, and just as good as new,” Elihal added. “Now shoo, I have work to do.”</p><p>“You’re about to close! No time to catch up?”</p><p>“You just gave me a huge job you want done by tomorrow. One or the other, Jaskier,” Elihal replied, folding up the leather jacket and turning to take it to another room.</p><p>“Fine, fine, I’ll leave you be. I’ll text you when I get home, yeah?”</p><p>“Sure thing. See you tomorrow, I suppose,” Elihal sighed, plopping the jacket down on a table.</p><p>“Yes! Thank you so much, Elihal, and I’m serious about that dinner and show, my treat!” Jaskier exclaimed, walking backwards out of the shop.</p><p>He saw Elihal shake his head and smile widely before the door shut in his face.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0019"><h2>19. Chapter 19</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Happy Halloween! :D<br/>Oop we been yearning a bit too much. Like me personally, for real lmao my bad anyway<br/>Also I be using Jaskier and Dandelion interchangeably in my head so if I accidentally type Dandelion instead of Jaskier when I’m meant to please let me know<br/>Song: “Budapest” by George Ezra but change Budapest to Novigrad like the cheesy mess we are</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Talk about banging and previous not great relationships.<br/>Inconsistent formatting ahaa ;P</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Working and renovating the brothel ended up being a wonderful idea in general. While Zoltan, Regis, and Priscilla figured out all of the technical stuff, Jaskier continued to direct his new workforce of witchers in cleaning the building and fixing things. Most of the heavy work was done by Lambert, who was still working to pay off his debt to Geralt. While Jaskier had to occasionally “remind” the witcher to clean a certain spot, he was mostly thorough. Jaskier also learned Lambert preferred dubstep and heavier electronic music. Well, there was no accounting for some people’s tastes, and to help keep the peace, that’s what Jaskier played whenever Lambert was working.</p><p>Eskel did most of the repairs. Lambert wasn’t patient or knowledgeable enough to deal with even a hammer and a nail, which Jaskier found ridiculous, but luckily Eskel was more than willing to do them. Jaskier helped where he could, but Eskel was significantly more efficient and precise. Plus, whenever Eskel was working, he had more say than Lambert of what music would be playing, and to Jaskier’s relief, Eskel preferred instrumental jazz and orchestral music.</p><p>Ciri and Geralt showed up occasionally to help where they could. Most often, Jaskier had Geralt go fetch food that he paid for to share with all of them, and Ciri usually helped Eskel with whatever he was repairing.</p><p>It also made it much easier to get stories about Geralt, particularly from Lambert, who couldn’t keep a secret to save his life. And, if Geralt had just so happened to tick off Eskel in some way, it was a great opportunity to get Geralt’s disastrous childhood stories. </p><p>Jaskier wasn’t making as many songs anymore, but he had little need to. He now had a decent amount of mostly originals and a few covers he was particularly proud of, and a consistent, fairly well-paid gig at the Kingfisher now. It dropped him to part-time at the hospital, which Yen wasn’t particularly happy about, but it was how things were now. He still worked there quite a bit for part-time.</p><p>Vesemir visited on Lambert’s last day, while he was doing the final scrubbing of the very top suite.</p><p>“Why, hello, sir!” Jaskier enthused, upon opening the front door of the Rosemary and Thyme. He could actually hear knocking now, since he’d moved the speakers blaring electric music upstairs. </p><p>“Please, Jaskier, it’s Vesemir. May I come in?” the gray witcher asked, looking around at the main floor behind Jaskier.</p><p>“Er, yeah, if you don’t mind taking your shoes off. Lambert might kill you at this point if you don’t,” Jaskier said, holding the door open.</p><p>Vesemir snorted while toeing his shoes off and placing them near the door. “I’d like to see him try.”</p><p>Jaskier giggled, wondering if Lambert had heard what Vesemir had said through the floors and loud music. “I think this is the first time I’ve seen you outside the hospital.”</p><p>“Hm. Most of my time is spent on contracts, or keeping after that shithole in the Bits we witchers live in currently. But, as this is an important day for our dear Lambert, I figured I’d visit.”</p><p>“What, he’ll finally pay off Geralt’s debt?”</p><p>“Yes, I think so. Right?”</p><p>“Yeah. As you can see, still a lot of work needing done, but it’s starting to look like it could be something,” Jaskier sighed, gesturing around the ground floor.</p><p>“I’m glad my witchers have helped you so much. We don’t like being in debt, after all.”</p><p>Jaskier frowned. “But only Lambert was in debt. What do you mean?”</p><p>Vesemir looked at Jaskier wryly, and gestured to the gleaming stage. “May we sit?”</p><p>“Uh, sure. So long as you tell me what you’re talking about, because to be honest, I feel I owe you witchers a favor more than anything,” Jaskier replied. He hesitantly sat next to Vesemir, who was now reclining against the stage. The witcher was wearing some armor, but he was still in more casual wear than Jaskier could remember seeing the man in before. He looked like a kindly grandpa, but while Jaskier had never seen the old witcher in action, he had no doubt the man was as dangerous as he was experienced.</p><p>Vesemir squinted a bit in the daylight, his slitted witcher’s eyes contracting to a thin line in the middle of a sea of gold. “I don’t think you realize how different you are.”</p><p>Jaskier blinked, then smirked. “Well, I mean, I am one of the more fabulous people in all of Novigrad, though I mostly have Elihal and Priscilla to thank for that. But, Vesemir, you ought to buy me dinner first--”</p><p>Vesemir interrupted Jaskier with a deep laugh. “Ah, maybe if I was younger. I’m afraid I’m much too old for you now.”</p><p>“Nonsense, how old could you be? A thousand, six hundred and ninety-two? I’ve never been super turned off by a gilf,” Jaskier teased, smiling widely and winking obnoxiously at Vesemir.</p><p>The gray wolf chortled, waving a dismissive hand at Jaskier. “No need to spoil the youth, you’d do best to pursue others. And that is not what I meant. You are extraordinarily kind to us.”</p><p>Jaskier frowned, looking around the room and suddenly rather fidgety. “Oh, well. No point in being mean. Actually, pretend I don’t call Geralt a dumb bitch on regular occasion--”</p><p>“I know it’s in fun, and often well deserved. Geralt is not an easy man to get along with.” Jaskier sighed. “In fact, I believe Eskel is the only one that bothers with any real manners besides myself, unfortunately.”</p><p>“Oh, Geralt’s nice, he’s just got all these walls up,” Jaskier started instinctually, but he quickly stammered to a halt and blushed at the knowing look Vesemir gave him. “Lambert’s got his perks, too.”</p><p>Vesemir snorted. “Lambert’s a jackass.”</p><p>“Yeah, you’re right.”</p><p>“In all seriousness, though. I don’t think you realize how much your songs have helped us, even in just a year.” Vesemir chuckled a little sourly, looking out of the nearby window. “Novigrad is almost bearable like this.”</p><p>Jaskier awkwardly shifted a little. “Oh, well, that’s good. I can’t really take credit for that, I mean, if anything I probably owe Geralt in particular money for taking his stories--”</p><p>“The amount of jobs and coin we now receive more than makes up for it. Those of us left do owe you a great deal, now. We all know your name.”</p><p>“I-- I really can’t--”</p><p>“I know you’re doing it because you want to get in Geralt’s pants.”</p><p>Jaskier’s face turned flaming red, and he spluttered and gaped like a fish out of water. Gods, but Vesemir was so perceptive. This was the only time Jaskier had really interacted with him outside of the hospital, and the man could tell. Or perhaps it was very obvious. Priscilla definitely suspected he loved Geralt, but she also knew they weren’t together in that way, and to his knowledge she’d still never met Geralt. If Vesemir knew, did the other witchers? Lambert had called him Geralt’s boyfriend earlier, but that was Lambert. </p><p>“Jaskier, please understand that Geralt is as dense as they come. I love him as my own son, but Geralt can be. . . blind, to certain things.”</p><p>Jaskier wriggled uncomfortably in his seat. “I really. . . don’t know what to tell you. I mean, you’re right, I guess, but he doesn’t seem interested, so I’m not gonna force myself on him. I mean, in that way. That’d be gross. I’m fine just being his friend, he seems like he needs a friend anyway.”</p><p>“I appreciate it. Geralt is more bearable with you around,” Vesemir muttered, smiling a tiny bit. It was sunny again outside, Novigrad going through a bit of a dry spell. “And regardless of your intentions, you have helped us, and we can feel safe with you around. I don’t think you realize how special you are in that regard, especially for a human.”</p><p>“We’re all just trying to live, might as well try and make it bearable,” Jaskier said, scrambling to change the subject somehow. “Er, can I get you food or a drink or something? Lambert should be done soon, anyway, I usually buy him something.”</p><p>“No, thanks. Don’t want to tarnish the walls of this establishment with an unwinnable argument,” Vesemir sighed. “Think I’ll take my leave.”</p><p>And then Vesemir walked out of the Rosemary and Thyme.</p><p>Jaskier wasn’t entirely sure how to process what Vesemir had said. Actually, he didn’t know at all how he was meant to take what Vesemir had said. When he’d started out, he hadn’t really meant to do. . . whatever it was he’d done for the witchers with his songs. It had been purely selfish, if Jaskier was being honest. And then there was the fact Vesemir knew about Jaskier’s prolonged crush.</p><p>But there was no time to think about it, to Jaskier’s relief; the Rosemary and Thyme needed furniture and things for customers and performers, and Jaskier had no clue where to start.</p><p>Priscilla actually came up with the idea, so Jaskier decided he’d pin the blame on her if anyone asked.</p><p>“Do you remember Sophronia?”</p><p>Priscilla and Jaskier were lounging against the now gleaming bar, courtesy of the recently freed Lambert, who proclaimed he’d never step foot in the building again when he’d finished cleaning it. The duo were discussing the problem, as there was no heavy labor needed right now, and the space actually looked decent.</p><p>“What about Sophronia?” Jaskier sighed, tipping his head back to stare tiredly at the ceiling.</p><p>“Well. . . I happen to know that there’s a company of dwarves in Novigrad that specializes in renovation. They’re going under due to the church, a bit, so their prices are pretty low, and I can get you an extra discount on top of that. But it’s still gonna cost a ton,” Priscilla explained.</p><p>“I don’t understand what that has to do with Sophronia. Remember she’s fucking nuts?” </p><p>“She’s just a little quirky, is all. And quirky and rich is the best combo.”</p><p>“I’m not stealing from her, Callonetta.”</p><p>“I’m not suggesting stealing! For the gods’ sake, you silly boy,” Priscilla scoffed. “I’m suggesting you get her to give you a grant. Perfectly legal.”</p><p>Jaskier snorted. “There is no way she’s giving me money.”</p><p>“Well, Dandelion, if you use the company of that big strong witcher I still haven’t ever met, I bet you could.”</p><p>Jaskier turned from the ceiling to stare in disbelief at Priscilla. “I know you’ve never met him, but trust me. He can’t seduce anyone to save his life.”</p><p>“He seduced you,” Priscilla muttered, and then she giggled as Jaskier slapped her shoulder and turned back to the ceiling to hide his blush. “And that’s still not what I’m suggesting. Word on the street is Sophonia’s really into vigilante hero comics right now. Like, really into them. Borderline obsessed.”</p><p>Jaskier blinked, abruptly confused. “. . . So?”</p><p>“So I think she’d be inclined to give money to one.”</p><p>“. . . Are you suggesting I get the witcher to act like a vigilante?”</p><p>“Is there any other way you could get your hands on a big pile of money before this place turns into land of the dust bunnies again?”</p><p>“He can’t lie. Sophronia’s not stupid,” Jaskier groaned. “Well, not that stupid. Witchers are as easy to read as a store sign. As a stop sign. They might as well be spelling out in the sky above their heads that they’re lying when they’re lying.”</p><p>“Well, then, take a loan out.”</p><p>“Ugh, I hate being in debt though.”</p><p>“Sounds like a you problem. I don’t know, figure something out. That’s all the ideas I had,” Priscilla said, shrugging.</p><p>“I mean, I could renovate the place myself.”</p><p>Priscilla snorted near violently, and then actually laughed. “No you can’t.”</p><p>“Excuse me! In another life, I was an interior designer!” Jaskier gasped, placing a hand over his chest in mock surprise.</p><p>“Every day, your apartment walls beg for death as you nail another frame or tapestry or whatever into them.”</p><p>“What do you have against my wall decor?”</p><p>“Nothing at all, obviously. Anyway, let me know when you have it figured out. If you’d like the dwarves’ company phone number, or if you need help picking out more wall decorations.” Jaskier stuck his tongue out at Priscilla’s back as she left the building, trilling something in her beautiful voice.</p><p>“I like my wall decor. There’s nothing wrong with it,” Jaskier muttered to himself, turning to lean against the bar on both elbows. Much as he’d like to deny it, Priscilla was right. Attempting to renovate himself would be a disaster, especially with all the changes he’d like to make to the lighting and plumbing on top of regular furniture. Jaskier knew a great many things, but professional interior decor that catered to customers was not one of them. </p><p>Jaskier mulled over the Sophronia suggestion in his head while texting Priscilla to send over that dwarven company’s number. Sophronia was likely still crazy, and was one of the few relationships Jaskier had ever regretted entering. What was meant to be a one-night stand morphed into more when Jaskier hesitatingly accepted Sophronia’s offer to stay for brunch waffles, and was the first romantic relationship Jaskier had been in that had really taught him the importance of consent outside of sex. She had an obsessive personality, and when she wanted something she had a tendency to use her money, plead like crazy to get it, or just straight up do or take whatever it was without even asking. While she was beautiful, Jaskier had quickly become repulsed by her, and forced Sophronia to let go of him by doing something Jaskier had once sworn he’d never do and sworn after that he’d never do ever again; he cheated on her. And to really drive the point home, he’d done so with a dude, practically in broad daylight to get Sophronia to notice at all. </p><p>So the thought of talking to her again was not a particularly enjoyable one. </p><p>And the thought of subjecting Geralt to her was even worse. </p><p>Inspiration struck while he was discussing the finer points of hiring the dwarven company with Priscilla.</p><p>5:42 PM</p><p>[Jaskier]: <em>dyou know where i could get like, fake swords? prop swords??</em></p><p>[Callonetta🦆🎵💛]: <em>Ah, the Sophronia route</em></p><p>[Jaskier]: <em>do you know or not</em></p><p>[Callonetta🦆🎵💛]: <em>Oh don’t be so angry I always come up with the best ideas. Anyways yeah</em></p><p>[Callonetta🦆🎵💛]: <em>If you talk to my boss, you know Madame Irina?</em></p><p>[Jaskier]: <em>tbh she frightens me</em></p><p>[Callonetta🦆🎵💛]: <em>LMAO incredible. I don’t know why, she’s really nice</em></p><p>[Jaskier]: <em>she threatened to cut off my balls once</em></p><p>[Callonetta🦆🎵💛]: <em>WTF did you do?</em></p><p>[Jaskier]: <em>snuck in</em></p><p>[Callonetta🦆🎵💛]: <em>You can literally get in for free. Why would you sneak in?</em></p><p>[Jaskier]: <em>ttyl im gonna get some prop swords</em></p><p>Pocketing his phone after setting it on do not disturb, Jaskier left the Rosemary and Thyme and set off for Madame Irina’s, rolling details of his scheme around in his mind. This would work. It was crazy enough to work.</p><p>At his approach and friendly greeting, the ticketmaster rolled his eyes and waved Jaskier in without a word.</p><p>“Thank you! Forever your bro,” Jaskier crowed, waltzing into the theatre and acting like the ticketmaster wasn’t throwing up the bird.</p><p>And then he promptly almost bowled over who must have been a new addition to the troupe.</p><p>“Oh dear, I’m terribly sorry, I was, uh, just--” Jaskier stammered, struggling a bit to catch his balance after flinging himself out of the way of a somewhat mean-looking halfling.</p><p>“Just not looking where you were going? Heard that one before,” the halfling snapped in a nasally voice, but he sighed and shrugged. “What’re you here for, lad?”</p><p>“Er, right. I just need to borrow some prop swords.” Jaskier dusted himself off awkwardly and glanced around the otherwise empty theater. “Show tonight?”</p><p>“Dress rehearsal,” the halfling muttered, looking Jaskier up and down with no further response.</p><p>Jaskier self-consciously blushed. He wasn’t wearing anything particularly out there today. The finished leather jacket Geralt had given him was hanging off of his arm, and while Elihal had added vibrant colors to it, it wasn’t anything particularly flashy; some greens with blues to compliment Jaskier’s eyes was all the color he’d added. Looking behind him, and then at himself, Jaskier spluttered, “What? Is there a bug on me?”</p><p>“Play me a song and I’ll get some for you,” the halfling abruptly said, inspecting his perfectly manicured nails.</p><p>“Wh-- excuse me? I, uh, don’t have my lute with me,” Jaskier blabbered.</p><p>“Sing one, then. You’ve clearly got your voice.”</p><p>“I really-- can I just talk to Madame Irina? I have things to do.” While it was nice to meet a fan, especially one that was apparently talented enough to perform with this troupe, Jaskier would rather not stay longer than he needed to.</p><p>“I don’t think you want to.”</p><p>“And why is that? My request shouldn’t take much time at all, and they should be returned within the next two days, assuming it doesn’t rain during the night!”</p><p>“We had to hire a new lead and we only have one more dress before performance.”</p><p>Jaskier grunted, stomping his foot and looking around the courtyard. “Shit. Well, I’m sure I can--”</p><p>“If you sing me a song, I’ll get them for you guaranteed. I owe Priscilla that much.”</p><p>Jaskier sighed in defeat. “Fine. Fine. What song? As I’m sure you know, Dandelion has a fairly extensive discography at this point, but I remember all of my songs--”</p><p>“One you haven’t sung before.”</p><p>“Oh, fine, here’s Wonderwall,” Jaskier snapped, and he sucked in a breath. “Today, is gonna be the day--”</p><p>“No, no, not a cover. One about him,” the halfling interrupted. “The witcher.”</p><p>Jaskier felt a blush rising before he could stop it. “I, er, the songs I have in the works aren’t--”</p><p>“Really? About seventy-five percent of your songs are about that witcher, and if they aren’t, they’re about either railing someone or getting railed by someone who’s clearly meant to be the witcher.” At that, Jaskier’s face turned flaming red, and he started sputtering some defense that the halfling completely ignored. “Just sing a damn song.”</p><p>Jaskier growled in frustration, trying to relax his shoulders. “Fine. Here’s a damn song.” While it wasn’t perfect, and also definitely not about Geralt, he stumbled his way through the lyrics and tried to sound as melodic as possible anyway through a couple of stanzas. Jaskier cringed internally about how unsure his voice sounded; he was singing one of his more private songs, ones that didn’t get a professionally recorded cover on Youtube, and were normally reserved for travels with Geralt. It was just the first song that popped to mind.</p><p>It seemed to please the halfling anyway, who finally told Jaskier to wait near the exit while he went to grab two prop swords.</p><p>Jaskier sort of hoped he’d never have to see that halfling again once he’d left with his prize. Or, at least, after this whole ordeal was done; he’d have to give the prop swords back to the halfling, who’d written his number on a note attached to one of the swords. </p><p>Now to see when Geralt would cave.</p><p>10:11 PM</p><p>[Jaskier]: 💖 <em>darling would you marry me?</em></p><p>[Geralt💛]: <em>No. You’ve asked that a total of six times now.</em></p><p>[Jaskier]: <em>alright</em></p><p>[Jaskier]: <em>i have a different proposal then</em></p><p>[Jaskier]: <em>so i need money like a lot of it. and i have a plan to get all of it all at once</em></p><p>[Geralt💛]: <em>I don’t like this already.</em></p><p>[Jaskier]: <em>hush grumpyface. anyway youll like part of it you get to hit me a couple times with a fake sword</em></p><p>[Jaskier]: <em>i need you to pretend to be a bandit so i can save this girl wholl probably give me money for it</em></p><p>[Jaskier]: <em>please</em></p><p>10:43 PM</p><p>[Jaskier]: <em>geralt i need an answer i wanna do this tomorrow night</em></p><p>[Geralt💛]: <em>No.</em></p><p>[Jaskier]: <em>what?? why not????</em></p><p>11:03 PM</p><p>[Jaskier]: <em>geralt why not???</em></p><p>[Geralt💛]: <em>It’s a stupid plan.</em></p><p>[Jaskier]: <em>no its not exactly how is it a stupid plan????</em></p><p>[Geralt💛]: <em>It won’t work.</em></p><p>[Jaskier]: <em>trust me it will i know this girl shes nuts and rich im doing her a favor</em></p><p>[Geralt💛]: <em>By taking her money?</em></p><p>[Jaskier]: <em>exactly</em></p><p>[Geralt💛]: <em>No.</em></p><p>[Jaskier]: <em>geraltttt come on itll work</em></p><p>11:25 PM</p><p>[Jaskier]: <em>come on geralt ill pay you and everything. you dont have to do any work i have the prop swords and i even have a script for you its the easiest job in the world</em></p><p>[Geralt💛]: <em>Fuck. Fine.</em></p><p>Hey, Jaskier thought to himself, a little under an hour and a half was better than normal. He quickly told Geralt to meet Jaskier at Sophronia’s address at ten PM tomorrow, wear bandit-like clothes, and be sure to cover his face.</p><p>When Jaskier waltzed up to the house a little past ten, Geralt was waiting. He’d tied his hair back, and his face was covered by fake Ray-Bans and a used-looking red handkerchief. </p><p>“Hello, handsome,” Jaskier purred, strutting up to Geralt.</p><p>“You’re late,” the witcher grunted, looking up at Jaskier and radiating annoyance. “What the fuck are you wearing?”</p><p>“This is my vigilante outfit. I think I’ll call myself. . . the Crimson Avenger!” Jaskier exclaimed, puffing out his chest and striking a heroic pose. Ignoring Geralt’s predictable snort was almost instinct at this point. “Also here is your sword and your script. You’re welcome.”</p><p>“Wait. Hold on. You want me to fight you?”</p><p>“I mean, let me win obviously. Please. You can hit me a couple times to make it believable, but please be gentle, I do take good care of my skin, I’d prefer not to bruise. I’m also not really wearing armor.”</p><p>Geralt was staring at the manuscript, holding it about three feet away from his face. “You want me to read this?”</p><p>“I mean, within reason, but Sophronia’s predictable. The encounter should go exactly as expected.”</p><p>Jaskier could feel Geralt’s glare burning a hole through the mask he was wearing. </p><p>“Oh, what? What’s wrong?” Jaskier snapped.</p><p>“You can’t seriously want me to read this.”</p><p>“It’ll work if you do! Why do you never trust me? Oh, shit,” Jaskier muttered as Geralt perked up. Sophronia must’ve been approaching. “No time to discuss it. Just follow the script and lose the fight, and we’ll be gold, alright?”</p><p>“I thought you were crimson.”</p><p>“Har har, dear,” Jaskier scoffed, before scurrying off to hide, prop sword in hand.</p><p>In reality, whatever Geralt said, so long as he played the part of bandit, was fine. Geralt wasn’t stupid, and he did look intimidating to strangers, even with his face covered. So when Jaskier heard “Tremble, flaxen-haired wench, and. . . bow before the. . . prince of thieves” in Geralt’s tired monotone, he almost blew his cover laughing.</p><p>The mask and his theatre days didn’t fail him, however, and Jaskier presented himself with a flourish, proclaiming himself the Crimson Avenger. Luckily, Sophronia realised it was actually him, though she immediately blew his secret identity. Geralt, still delightfully following the script, said, “oh no, not the crimson avenger.”</p><p>The actual fight was a lot harder than Jaskier thought it would be. The prop sword was heavier than he’d expected, and Geralt, while clearly not taking the fight seriously, was still putting up a bit of fight. It took a lot of willpower not to shout “ow” indignantly when Geralt whacked Jaskier on the arm with the blunt of the sword. However, Jaskier pulled through, and was incredibly grateful Geralt let himself fall safely onto his back and disarmed himself quickly.</p><p>“The Crimson Avenger. . . triumphs again!” Jaskier tried his best to shout victoriously, and hoped his somewhat pathetic panting and wheezing was covered by the mask.</p><p>“Oh, my hero! Are you well?” Sophronia gushed, rushing to his side and sparing a glare for Geralt, who was practically lounging on the cobbled ground now.</p><p>“Eh, one blow may have struck true, but tis another scar for my collection!”</p><p>“Please, come inside, and I shall. . . bandage you up,” she said, suddenly staring at him with her eyes hooded. Jaskier mentally braced himself for a rough night.</p><p>Geralt grunted a tiny bit as he stood up, dusting himself off.</p><p>“Ah! Begone, foul bandit, or the Crimson Avenger will beat you senseless!” Sophronia suddenly shouted, twirling and sticking her pointer finger in Geralt’s face. </p><p>Behind her back, Jaskier met Geralt's gaze and gave a small shrug and shake of the head, and then a motion of a phone. Geralt gave a tiny nod before turning and leaving without another word, sticking his hands in his pockets and walking away.</p><p>Jaskier was whisked away for a daunting, but hopefully fruitful night with Sophronia.</p>
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